The Return of Professor Chaos
by Chasing Rabbits
Summary: Butters is quite uncertain as to why Kenny is taking such an interest in him... and is quite surprised to realize that he sort of enjoys Kenny's company. Slash like whoa. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Contains **Butters acting like a seventeen-year-old boy**, **slash, boy/boy love **(ZOMGRLLY?1!~* how rare for South Park fandom), and **cursing**. So... so much cursing.

Un-beta'ed, all errors are my own, blah. blah. _blah_.

* * *

By the time Butters had finished middle school he'd had just about enough of people—all people—taking advantage of him. He would go into high school a new, improved, more assertive Leopold Butters Stotch, gosh d…goddammit. From the first time he'd refused to help Eric with one of his harebrained schemes in the ninth grade ("Why the fuck not?" "'Cause it's kinda dumb, Eric." "… Well fuck you, Butters! Just… Fuck you!") to just last week when he'd refused to give Fosse the answers to the math homework ("I'll help you if you need it, but I'm not giving you the answers."), Butters was proud of himself. Sure, his new attitude hadn't really made him any friends (with the exception of Wendy, who was just so _proud_ of him for sticking up for himself), but he'd kind of grown up without many friends so he wasn't too terribly hung up on that. Dougie still came around every so often, but mostly that was because Butters could buy tickets for R-rated movies now.

But none of that really mattered to Butters because this year? This was the last year he intended to spend in South Park. He had a stack of applications a mile high—at least he would have had they not been digital—to various universities around the country. He'd taken so many advanced placement classes that in his junior year Mr. Mackey had needed to forcibly drag him out of AP Art History on the grounds that it was too dangerous to let a sixteen-year-old take five college-caliber courses. In addition to volunteering at an after school daycare once a week, and working as an arts camp counselor in training the last summer, he'd joined a slew of clubs, including student leadership, writing club, key club, glee club, drama club—hell, he'd even joined environmental club when Wendy had been on a crusade to save the polar bears back in ninth grade. After all that, he started working in Mr. Mackey's office as the peer college counselor during fifth period just so he could have more time to research.

Unfortunately, Mr. Mackey always kept Butters so busy with pamphlet-folding, envelope-stuffing, and flyer-making that he rarely had time to go online and look at pictures of the gorgeous California coastline or the beaches down Miami way.

"Why would you want to go to California anyway?" Dougie asked one afternoon during a particularly slow fifth period.

"Same reason you lied about a stomach ache to leave Geometry," Butters shot a pointed look at the younger boy, attempting to invoke shame but instead reaping an especially tired eye-roll.

"Wouldn't it be cheaper to stay here?" Dougie continued as he paced the office for pamphlets. Butters shrugged.

"I'm applying for scholarships," he said. "Plus, do you what the weather is in Los Angeles right now?"

Dougie shrugged.

"I really don't care."

Butters scowled, was about to make a mention of Dougie being the worst possible friend a fella could ask for, but the door opened and Butters had to pretend that he was working.

"S-so y'see there's just a little tab right here… Oh, h-hey Kenny."

Kenny McCormick's eyes positively illuminated at the sight of Butters, so much so that Butters felt his face flush in a maddening way. Kenny had always been more than willing to exchange pleasantries unprovoked; Butters was pretty sure it was because he still felt bad for the ninja star incident.

"I'm gonna head back to class," Dougie said with a knowing look on his face. Had Butters been twelve years younger he may have stuck his tongue out… come to think of it, had Kenny not been in the same room Butters probably would have stuck his tongue out.

"I was just looking for Mackey," Kenny said and pulled up a chair to the desk. Butters coughed and minimized the google images window.

"W-well, he's not here right now, Kenny," he explained very carefully. "Is there something I can help you with, or do you just wanna leave a note?"

"Will he be back?" Kenny asked, a smirk playing across his handsome face. Butters had never before been so grateful for the no-hoods-up dress code the school enforced.

"O-oh," Butters stumbled when he realized Kenny was expecting an answer. He straightened out a few papers on his desk as he explained, "M-Mr. Mackey is going around to all the sophomore English classes today, s-so he probably won't be back until the end of the period."

Kenny nodded, blonde mop of grungy hair bobbing along, and gave Butters another smile.

"How are you, Butters?" he asked. Butters couldn't help the way his eyebrows knitted together.

"What?"

"How. Are. You?" Kenny repeated pleasantly. Butters' face was bright red—he was sure of it.

"O-oh, I s'pose I'm fine," he shrugged, still pushing around a few papers. This was not awkward in the slightest. Not. At. All. "Look, Kenny, is there something I can help you with? I can't just let you sit in here all period."

"Oh, I don't have class right now," Kenny shrugged. "I have early leave fifth and sixth period. Wanted to talk to Mackey about getting work-study credit."

"I-I didn't know you had a job," Butters said before he could stop himself. Kenny made some mention about the gas station convenience store, but Butters was too busy trying to find a natural end to the conversation.

"You okay there, Butters?"

"Hmm? Oh, I-I'm just dandy."

Kenny raised a skeptical eyebrow and stared at Butters with a calculating look. But then, that's what Kenny always did. Call him crass, call him perverted (and boy, did people ever call him those things), but Kenny was actually quite spectacular when it came to reading people.

"What's new in your life, Butters?" Kenny asked, gaze unwavering. Sheesh, a fella could crack under that stare.

"Just… applying to colleges is all."

"Yeah?" Kenny prompted, full of (from what Butters could tell was) genuine interest. "Where've you applied to?"

"Kenny, you really should—"

"Out of state?" Kenny asked. "Can't say I blame you. That's what I'd do if I had the money or the grades."

"Kenny—"

"It's looking like I'm going to be the only one left here," Kenny continued on a wistful sigh. "Stan's staying in-state as far as I know, but Kyle's got his heart set on Brown or whatever the fuck prissy-bitch school he wants to go to, and fatass is going abroad for this German immersion program—"

"Kenny!" Butters finally snapped.

"Yeah?"

"I-is there a point to all this, or are you just runnin' your mouth to hear your own voice?"

Kenny gave a laugh and folded his arms, a look of absolute amusement playing at his features.

"I was trying to make polite conversation with a friend," he said. "Now I get the impression that not a lot of people do that."

Butters shrugged.

"Not a lot of people r-really call me their friend," he admitted softly, firmly. He really didn't need Kenny's pity today.

"Well," Kenny sighed. "The good news about that is once you get to college you can completely start over and make friends based on who you are now and not who you were ten years ago. You're lucky enough to have turned from a nice kid into an awesome guy."

Butters rolled his eyes.

"Is there something you want from me?" Butters sighed. "Do you need me to change a grade or take a strike off of your record or something? Just tell me what it is."

"Oh God, Butters, no," Kenny shook his head, eyes wide with worry. "Fuck, I just—you seem so lonely all the time and I just thought you could maybe do with a little pick-me-up, you know?"

"Pick-me-up?" Butters repeated, eyebrows high on his forehead. Kenny seemed to pick up on the implication Butters had hoped he hadn't been intending. He kept any comment to himself, only shot Butters a rather lecherous smile before returning to the original conversation.

"What do you do for fun, Butters?" he asked. Butters shrugged.

"I like to read an awful lot," he said. "A-and I write a bit."

"Anything else?"

"I-I go to movies sometimes," Butters muttered.

"Perfect!" Kenny smiled. "Stan, Kyle, and I were gonna go see the new Terrance and Phillip movie… did you want to come with us?"

"Thanks, but… Terrance and Phillip isn't really my thing."

"Butters," Kenny said very solemnly. "Terrance and Phillip is everybody's thing."

"Th-thanks, Kenny, but I think I'll just stay in tonight. Maybe some other time."

* * *

Of course, Butters didn't end up staying in that night. Of course Wendy had to call him around five o'clock, right when he'd gotten home from drama club practice, to beg him to hang out.

"Stan and his friends are going to see that god-awful movie."

"Now, I thought y-you and Stan broke up last week," Butters said with a frown as he walked through the door. Meatloaf. Fridays always smelled like meatloaf in the Stotch household.

"Okay, yeah, we're on a break," Wendy said very carefully, "but that doesn't mean we can't be at the same movie theater at the same time as each other... we're friends, after all."

"I gotta tell you, Wendy, I don't really think I'm following what you're trying to get at."

"Do you want to come see Tangled with me and Bebe?"

Butters groaned and smacked his forehead.

"Wendy…"

"I know, I know," Wendy sighed. "'gay, but not that gay', right?"

Butters frantically shushed her as he checked around the corner for his mother. She was in the kitchen, humming merrily to herself and mashing some potatoes.

"Hi, ma," he called carefully. She looked up from her mashing and smiled.

"Hello, Butters," she replied brightly. "Dinner in fifteen."

Butters nodded and ran all the way up to his room, Wendy still on the other line.

"I know you're nervous about your mom finding you out and all, but… she can't listen into a conversation you're having on your cell phone."

"Oh yeah?" Butters asked, voice cracking as he shut the door behind him. "I guess you're forgetting the time she tried to drown me when she found out about my dad."

"That's different," interjected the unmistakable voice of none other than Bebe Stevens herself. "Unless you've been sleeping with your mother—"

"Oh, come on!" Butters exclaimed and dropped his bag beside his desk. "Wendy, you gotta start telling me when I'm on speaker."

"I just wanted Bebe to hear why you wouldn't go see to the movie with us," Wendy said very lightly. "I wouldn't want to unintentionally twist your words to make you sound like a jerk or anything."

Butters let out a whine, slammed his head against the wall, and told the girls he'd pick them up at Wendy's house in an hour. He tossed his phone on his bed and heaved a sigh. So he hadn't become a wholly assertive person, but it was a big change, for damn it all, and Butters was only human. Plus, he kind of liked hanging out with Wendy and Bebe, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little enticed by the new Disney film.

With another sigh, Butters began unloading his schoolbooks and homework for the weekend. Even though he'd inexplicably stopped getting grounded for every little thing years ago, he supposed the punishments had done their job by keeping him a well-behaved kid. It wasn't that he wanted to rebel and couldn't—he just never felt the desire. Wendy assured him that it didn't mean he was defective, but mature for his age. Bebe and Dougie adamantly insisted he start going to gay clubs on the weekend and spend forty-eight hours straight rolling on ecstasy and blowing strangers in the bathrooms for cocaine. Why couldn't anyone just suggest he stay out an hour past curfew or something?

"Butters, dinnertime!"

Butters strolled down the stairs at a leisurely pace, gave his mother a peck on the cheek, and sat down at the table across from his father, who was reading the rest of that morning's paper. Butters pushed his fork around beside his plate until it was perpendicular to the table's edge. He coughed.

"Mom, do you need help with anything?"

"Oh, no sweetheart," said his mother, very vague and far off as though she'd forgotten what she was doing. Vehement denial of one's husband's sexuality would do that, Butters supposed.

"I'm going to the movies with Wendy and Bebe tonight," he said softly. His father snapped the paper very forcefully and glanced sidelong at him.

"And what time is your curfew on Fridays, Butters?"

"E-eleven-thirty, sir," Butters replied. "I don't think I'll be out that long."

"What're you seeing?" his father asked.

"Tangled."

_Crap_. Curse his inability to lie off the cuff.

"The girls really want to see it," Butters began, "and they wanted to know if I wanted to come. I guess they don't want to be out too late after dark all alone."

"That's my boy," said his mother from behind as she leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

"That's right, Butters," said his father, a note of relief coloring his voice, "ladies are dainty creatures that require the utmost care and protection from a man."

Butters pretended he didn't hear his mother choke back a sob (perhaps a laugh?) as she sat down and started serving up slices of meatloaf.

* * *

"Ladies, I am here to escort you fine and delicate creatures to the cinema."

Wendy and Bebe both looked at each other and rolled their eyes as they exited Wendy's house. Butters beamed at the two of them, twirling his keys on his finger as he caught up with them on the way back to his car.

"Gosh, I thought you two gals were in need of some protectin' on your way to and from the theater," he said brightly. Bebe snorted.

"I've got mace, a tazer, and I'm wearing wedge-heels—if the first two fail I can always club an attacker to death."

The ride to the theater was accompanied by Lady Gaga. Bebe was, for lack of a better word, obsessed. Wendy was less so, but still enjoyed the hell out of an opportunity to lip synch like a lunatic. Butters… definitely wasn't singing along. Nope. Not a bit.

Because God felt it necessary to toy with him, taunt him, and generally just sodomize him from time to time, Butters found himself in line right behind Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman, who'd undoubtedly invited himself along. Kenny spotted him first and immediately greeted him.

"Staying in tonight?" he asked with a smile. Butters gave a fleeting smile so as to say he'd been caught in the act without really having to say it. When it became apparent that Kenny wanted an answer, Butters just shrugged.

"Taking my bitches to the movies," he said. "Bitches love movies." Kenny barked a laugh as both Wendy and Bebe smacked him on the shoulders.

"I do not solicit either of these women for money," Butters clarified, which only seemed to delight Kenny further. Butters found himself grinning right back.

"I don't suppose you'll be joining us in the Terrance and Phillip theater?"

"Ha!" Cartman exclaimed. "They're probably gonna go see that boring-ass king movie or something."

"The King's Speech?" Wendy asked lightly. "Nominated for twelve academy awards, actually a movie of substance that has to do with identity and coming to terms with one's self and one's place in history at the turning point of a crucial time?"

"Jesus Christ, you uppity bitch, no one asked you for a fucking term paper on that shit."

"Shut the fuck up, fatass," Kenny rolled his eyes. "They're obviously of a loftier and more elite class than us." Kenny and Cartman sniggered as Wendy and Bebe both rolled their eyes and turned their backs in an attempt to end whatever exchange they could've possibly had further.

"Oh, shit," Kenny muttered. "Is that what you guys are actually going to see?"

Butters felt his face go bright red when Bebe informed the boys of what they were actually seeing. Cartman and Kenny looked at each other for a moment, looking like they were going to hold it in, but when their boisterous laughter ricocheted off seemingly every building in the street, Butters knew he'd never live it down.

"Thanks so much for taking us, Butters," Bebe said, her voice suddenly very low, and her hand very… on Butters' chest. Wendy followed her lead and draped her arm around Butters' shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek before whispering a husky "thanks" right in his ear. Cartman's jaw dropped, momentarily incapacitated on the verbal front, while Kenny just rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly. Bebe had mentioned that she and Kenny had slept together not too long ago, and so Butters realized that the other blonde probably saw right through the ruse. He just looked at Butters, a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes, and turned back to check the marquee. It must've been for cinematic effect or something, because he turned back, a smirk tugging at his lips, and informed them of a party at Token's at eight.

"Would suck to be short three such beautiful people," he shrugged and finally turned back forward for good. Cartman followed suit, though not before delivering one last heartfelt 'bitch' Wendy's way. Butters rolled his eyes and shook his head.

* * *

"And how was your movie?"

Butters nearly leapt out of his skin when Kenny crept up behind him in the bathroom. It was a good thing he'd already peed, otherwise he'd have had some awkward explaining to do. Kenny just grinned and hopped up on the sink counter.

"I didn't know you hung out with Wendy and Bebe," he said.

"Yeah, sometimes," Butters shrugged and dried his hands. He looked at his reflection in an attempt to keep from staring at Kenny, but Butters began doubting that it was a practical second choice. He was way too pale, way too scrawny, his eyes were way too big and buggy, and his hair was way too fluffy. Not Tweek-fluffy, but fluffy enough to be a little bothersome.

"It's good that you have other friends," Kenny continued, eyes fixed on Butters—Butters could feel it if not necessarily see it. "I worry about you sometimes."

Butters stopped his meticulous self-nitpicking and looked at the other blonde. He frowned, positively confused.

"Why?"

Kenny shrugged.

"Always have."

Butters snorted and tossed his soggy paper towels into the trashcan.

"Maybe I should get more people to throw ninja stars in my eye," he said, un-amused. Kenny rolled his eyes and hopped off the counter, determined to follow Butters out of the bathroom.

"So that's why you hate me?" he asked. "Because of something I did when we were _kids_? Never thought you'd be one to hold a grudge."

"I don't," Butters said very simply. "It'd just be nice to get more sympathy, and if people's crippling guilt is the only way a fella like me can get it—"

"Dude, lighten the fuck up!" Kenny exclaimed. "Have a little faith in people."

"No," Butters snapped and whipped around so fast that Kenny ran into him full-on. "What reason has anyone ever given me to? What's that? No answer for me, Kenny?"

"I guess not."

"That was rhetorical," Butters sighed. "You know what that means, right?"

"Don't be a dick, dude," Kenny said very calmly, holding his hands up to placate the smaller boy. Butters sighed and recoiled within himself; after such a lovey-dovey-happy-endings-type movie, he should have been a little more inclined to believe the best of Kenny. Kenny wasn't like everyone else. Kenny was Mysterion, for goodness sake—Kenny was every epitome of good Butters could manage to think of.

"Look," Kenny began, "you're right; you don't have much of a reason to trust anyone. But… you're not the same happy guy we all used to know. Let's face it—cynical isn't a good look on you, dude."

Butters scowled.

"I'm just not naïve anymore," he stated. "Just 'cause I got wise and stopped letting you fellas boss me around you think there's something wrong with me. You know, none of you are the same as you were when we were kids. It's called growing up, Kenny."

"Growing up doesn't mean you have to turn into an imperious, self-righteous pain in the ass, _Leopold_," Kenny snapped back, his eyes aflame with unfamiliar fire. Butters halted at the use of his real name, almost unable to believe someone actually remembered it. Then something else caught Butters' attention.

" Imperious'?" he asked. Kenny raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

"Sometimes I pay attention to vocabulary lessons," he said very firmly, and then relaxed his posture, as though he knew something Butters didn't. "It's funny, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Realizing you misjudge people just as much as everyone else."

* * *

Butters arrived home at 8:53 exactly—Bebe had gotten a ride to the party with Kenny and Wendy had promised to tag along as damage control. With a quick 'hello' to his parents, who were watching something or other in the living room, Butters ran up to his room and locked the door. Who the _fuck_ did Kenny McCormick think he was? He pulled the phone out of his pocket and immediately pressed speed dial #4.

"Hello?"

"Dougie, what are you doing right now?" Butters asked in hushed tones.

"I'm waiting for Ghost Adventures to start," Dougie replied. "Why?"

"I'm coming over," Butters said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm pissed off!" Butters snapped.

"Oh, God…" Dougie groaned. "Butters, no one is going to put up with your Professor Chaos crap anymore. They all know it's you, and if you do anything stupid they can convict you now."

Butters deflated, mouth trying to form around words that wouldn't come. Dougie sighed against the other end of the phone.

"Can't you think of some other way to vent your frustrations?" he asked. "Go for a run, tear the wings off of flies… jerk off for all I fucking care. Just deal with your rage like a normal human being. Fuck, I gotta go. They're in a haunted navy ship this week."

And like that, Dougie was gone. Butters groaned and threw the phone against his pillow. Do, do… there was nothing he wanted to do apart from pin Kenny down and beat the living shit out of him. And for what? For being right? That was the most ridiculous line of logic Butters could ever remember following.

Butters ran his hands through his hair and sat down at his computer, flicking at the mouse pad so the machine flashed to life. A blank word document sat before him, mocking him without mercy. He hadn't written anything in so long, another reason he must've been on edge. With a few drums of his fingers on the well-worn keys of the laptop, Butters wrote a few words. Up against a few more they formed a sentence. A few more like thoughts and he had a paragraph. He pounded relentlessly at the keys, unable to break his concentration for anything, even his mother calling a quick 'goodnight' through the door. By the time he felt well and truly purged, the clock read 2:04 am.

Butters scrolled up to the top of the document, watched as the cursor blinked on the blank line he'd left for the title of the document. With a smirk, Butters typed out the final words 'The Return of Professor Chaos', saved, and shut the lid of his laptop. He hadn't felt this good in so long, though he supposed that was a common side effect of creative expression.

What Butters wasn't so sure of was why he seemed to have a rather pressing erection.

Okay, yeah… he'd spent the last five hours writing about superheroes and villains, not bothering to filter out his rather ridiculous descriptions of their physiques, and Butters had quite a vivid imagination when it came to those kinds of things… Butters brought his computer back to life and scanned the document.

Holy crap… he'd inadvertently written twenty pages of the most homoerotic description he'd ever seen. He bit his lip, eyes lingering a little too long over the description of Mysterion—all angles, dirty blonde hair, and electric blue eyes, not to mention a smile that just made a guy want to drop to his knees and—

Fuck. Butters couldn't take it any longer. He shut the lid to his laptop once again and leaned back in his chair, carefully undoing his belt, unzipping his pants… he slid his hand underneath the waistband of his underpants and nearly choked when he finally had his erection in hand. Head all a-swim with vivid images—some of just Kenny, some of Mysterion flipping him, Professor Chaos, over and fucking him violently into the brick wall of some abandoned alley where he'd been caught red-handed for something that deserved immediate punishment.

Butters came with a groan, shooting his release all over his hand and perfectly good t-shirt. He took a few seconds to catch his breath as he stared into the middle distance, apparition of Kenny fucking him mercilessly still at the forefront of his mind. His dick gave an interested twitch, but Butters ignored it.

"We're not ready for that," Butters murmured and moved to clean himself up, to get ready for bed. He didn't bother with the implications of talking to his crotch after he'd just jerked off—he had bigger things to worry about… like facing Kenny after just having used him as the object of his sexual desires. Another moment to think and he figured it probably wasn't the weirdest fantasy Kenny had been subjected to… to which he'd been subjected.

Oh, Butters needed sleep in a very big way.


	2. Chapter 2

Uh... hi. I has moar.

* * *

Come Monday morning, Butters was feeling a little better than he had been on Friday night. He'd spent most of his weekend consumed by homework, but when he wasn't concentrating on that, he was refining 'The Return of Professor Chaos'. Yes, it seemed creativity put him in a damn chipper mood—so chipper in fact that, until Kenny had approached him before first class that morning, he'd forgotten to be awkward. Of course, Butters was greeted by the onslaught of sexual fantasies he'd indulged in over the weekend as soon as those vivid blue eyes met his.

"Hey, man," Kenny said with what appeared to be a remorseful smile. "I just wanted to see how you were doing after, y'know…"

"Oh, I-I reckon I'm f-fine," Butters fumbled. Kenny smiled.

"You know that you lose your stammer when you're upset?" he asked. "I mean, you've gotten a lot better since we were kids, but man, when you're pissed? It's pretty scary, dude."

Butters winced but offered a small, bashful smile. Kenny gave a lopsided grin and clapped Butters on the shoulder.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," he beamed. "Where're you headed?"

"A-AP Statistics," Butters said softly. Kenny gave a disbelieving laugh.

"You and Kyle, man… Crazy," he said fondly. "C'mon, that's right by where I'm headed."

"Where're you headed?" Butters asked as they started walking.

"I have art first period," Kenny said. "Kinda lame, but it's the only class I can really stand."

"I-is that what you wanna be?" Butters found himself asking. "A-an artist, I mean." Kenny shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

"Kind of always wanted to design video games, you know?" he said, as though he couldn't believe he was admitting this out loud.

"Well, they're lookin' for all sorts of people to do that!" Butters exclaimed, then coughed when he realized just how emphatically supportive he was being of a half-baked desire. "Yeah, I mean, it's a re-really lucrative career for a lot of people."

Kenny stopped outside the art classroom and looked at Butters with that calculating stare of his once again. Butters was hoping that pretending it had no effect on him would keep an unwanted erection at bay.

"You sure you're okay?" Kenny finally asked. Butters nodded. Kenny nodded back and pursed his lips. "You wanna hang out after school today?"

"O-oh," Butters mumbled. "Well, I got drama club rehearsal 'til five. And then I go home and eat dinner. And then I do homework." Kenny gave a laugh.

"Do you wanna hang out after your drama rehearsal or not?"

Butters didn't know what in God's good name possessed him to say 'yes'… maybe because he knew Kenny would smile again if he did.

"Can I wait for you to get done with rehearsal, and then we can go from there?"

Butters nodded, a little dumbfounded at what exactly was happening, and only made a mad dash to class when he heard the bell ring. The teacher was cross, undoubtedly wondering what made good boys like that go bad. Butters sank into his chair beside Wendy and smiled.

* * *

The next few weeks found Butters hanging around Kenny more and more—sometimes in the company of Kyle, Stan, and Cartman, other times in the company of Craig, Tweek, Clyde, and Token. And then there were the times when it was just them. Butters tended to like those the best, just because he was averse to large gatherings of people. The more time Butters spent around Kenny, the more intricate and lengthy 'The Return of Professor Chaos' became, going from an erotic, violent one-shot to a series of erotic, madcap mishaps, each installment of which found Mysterion and Professor Chaos culminating each crime bust with a heavy bout of fucking. Butters couldn't be bothered with the psychological implications of what he was writing, only that it was getting him off in quite a spectacular way.

Not that he should be thinking about these things when he was on his third beer in Clyde's basement.

Clyde had parties every Saturday night when his parents left to have a torrid love affair in a seedy motel ("whatever, it makes them feel young again or some shit"). There was only one rule for Clyde's basement on Saturday nights, and that was 'no chicks'. Saturday nights were full of foosball, gory video games, weed, and enough booze to incapacitate a herd of elephants. Butters hadn't been 'one of the guys' in years, and so the adjustment took some time to get used to.

Currently, Butters found himself curled up on a beanbag chair in the very far corner of the room. He watched Kyle and Stan shouted rather heatedly at each other as they mashed their thumbs into Clyde's PS3 controllers, as Tweek used his spastic twitches to his advantage in a game of foosball, as Kenny rolled joint after joint for anyone who wanted one.

And then Kenny caught Butters' eyes and smiled, and Butters may have melted ever so slightly from the inside out. It was probably just the beer, but Butters was almost certain that his face was bright red. Butters smiled, a dopey grin all to himself, as he sank lower and lower in the chair. He was unsure of how much time passed, but when Kenny hauled him to his feet, he decided it was just plenty. The taller(hotter, sexier, fuckable-er… was that a word?) boy mentioned something about it being time to go home, and after Butters made a very adamant declaration of his being too drunk to drive ("Shut the fuck up, faggot—no one cares." "That's Professor Faggot to you, Eric!") Kenny decided that they would walk back to his house and come for the car in the morning.

Butters felt light, happy, and so-so _free_ as he walked to Kenny's house. He was humming some stupid song he used to tap dance to, completely aware of the words but not wanting Kenny to think he was some special brand of retarded or something.

"Are your parents gonna be pissed if you don't come home?" Kenny asked. Butters looked over and grinned, feeling absolutely ridiculous that he couldn't even look at the other boy without feeling like a lunatic.

"My curfew was an hour ago," Butters heard himself slur. "I texted them and said I'd sleep over at Wendy's… 'cause I think they think she's my girlfriend."

Kenny snorted and pulled Butters into an affable hug as they continued down the snowy sidewalk toward Kenny's neighborhood. Butters inched closer until he was pressed against Kenny entirely, a little frightened of whatever meth-heads or coke-addicts would solicit sex from them or—

"Oh, would you relax?" Kenny asked with a smirk. "No one's gonna bother you for anything."

Butters allowed himself to relax—he _was_ walking with Mysterion, after all.

When they got to the house they had to sneak in through Kenny's window to avoid waking his parents, who, as Kenny said, were undoubtedly passed out cold in the living room. With a tug, Kenny was able to get Butters through the window in one piece.

The room was cold, colder than Butters could ever remember being inside a room, so cold that he didn't want to take off his coat. Kenny was already at the closet, pulling out a few extra sweaters.

"I may have stolen these from Kevin before he left last year," Kenny said and tossed a ratty old orange hoodie at Butters.

"This looks like one of yours," Butters said dumbly.

"Well, that one is," Kenny explained absently. "It's from middle school. I'm too big for it now, but sometimes Karen needs another layer so she borrows it."

"I don't like what you're implying there, buster," Butters said firmly as he shed his coat in favor of the sweater. Kenny looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"That you're built like a fourteen-year-old girl?"

Butters smirked, "Yeah, fourteen-year-old girl: now complete with cock and balls."

Kenny laughed—positively cackled as he fell backward onto his bed. Sheesh, Kenny was gorgeous when he laughed like that.

"Holy shit, I've never heard you talk like that," the older blonde said. Butters felt his face flush even further, if it was possible… man, he shouldn't have drank so much.

"That's 'cause I don't really," Butters shrugged and ran his fingers over the worn material of Kenny's old sweater. Threadbare as it was, it was still comfy, and Butters liked comfy.

"You should more often," Kenny said and sat up. Butters wondered absently how he did it without getting dizzy. "If you just let everyone know you're as depraved as the rest of us…"

Butters snorted.

"I'm gay—of course I'm depraved."

Kenny paused, all hints of mirth gone from his face as he stared at Butters with that god darn calculating look again. Butters felt his face color deeply as he stared at the threadbare sheets covering the mattress.

"You're really?" Kenny asked softly. Butters cleared his throat and gave a stiff nod.

"Eric says it so often I thought you all just… knew."

"No," Kenny shook his head. "I mean, no offense, it's not surprising, but… you let Cartman rip on you like that thinking we all know?"

Butters just shrugged and looked over at Kenny, who was now regarding him with all the attentions of a curious cat. Butters rolled his eyes.

"You don't think I'm horrible or goin' to hell or nothin', do you?"

Kenny scoffed and put his hands behind his head.

"Fuck no," he said. "Love who you're gonna love, fuck whoever gets your dick hard. I'm not in any place to judge."

Butters smiled, all hints of anxiety finally gone as he stretched out beside Kenny. Both boys stared up at the ceiling, their feet occasionally brushing, but for the most part remained entirely at peace in the silence. Then Butters' brain started thinking again, and when he'd been drinking? Yeah, turning off was something his brain just did not do.

"Why're you always so nice to me?"

"'Cause you're a nice guy," Kenny replied stoically. Butters frowned and turned on his side, propped up on one elbow so as to better stare at the other boy.

"Your friends don't seem to care."

"My friends are all self-absorbed douche bags," Kenny shrugged. "Most people are. People like you and me… we have consideration for other people, look at the big picture, the greater good… all that shit."

"You still never put this much effort into hanging out with me before," Butters pointed out. Kenny sighed.

"Because I assumed that, out of anyone, you wouldn't let this shitty world turn you into an asshole," he said softly. "And when I saw that happening I had to interfere, because someone like you shouldn't be as cynical as you are."

"I'm not cynical," Butters said thoughtfully, "just a little more realistic."

"Realistic is seeing the world for what it is," Kenny said. "Cynical is seeing the world for what it is and expecting the worst without a reason."

"I've spent the last seventeen years of my life being walked all over, ridiculed, and generally disliked," Butters frowned. "How am I not supposed to expect the worst after that?" At this Kenny opened his eyes and stared directly at Butters, eye-to-eye, no defenses, no walls.

"Because I know you don't want to," he said. "Because I know you still walk around expecting the best of people. You're just not surprised anymore when you get the worst. You found out that being cold and distant kept people from hurting you. You think you tricked yourself into not caring, but deep down you do, because you're just a poor, neglected kid with shitty parents who just wants to be loved and who gets nothing but shit in return. You're right—you have no reason to expect anything but the worst, but that doesn't mean that you should."

Butters was, for lack of a better word, dumbstruck. He'd never felt so cheapened, so compartmentalized, so utterly chewed-up-and-spit-back-out. It was horrible. He wanted to yell, to scream, to punch Kenny in his stupid, gorgeous face for daring to know so much about him without ever having asked.

Instead, Butters just kissed him.

And yeah, it wasn't the most informed decision he'd ever made, but… Kenny kissed back, didn't he? It wasn't much, just drunken, sloppy lips-on-lips, but Butters felt like he would just stop existing if Kenny pushed him away now.

And, to his credit, Kenny didn't. Instead, Kenny pulled Butters on top of him, one hand at the base of Butters' skull and the other firm on his ass. Butters let out a little noise of appreciation and pulled back ever so slightly for some air. He could feel Kenny's breath coming in warm puffs against his slick lips—there was no blood going to Butters' brain and goddammit he couldn't fucking _think_.

"Do I get you hard, Butters?" Kenny asked as he ran his hand along the outline of Butter's erection. Butters nodded fervently.

"Y-yeah," he choked out, as if his nod hadn't been enough, and opened his eyes. Kenny was absolutely fixated on him. Butters swallowed his anxiety and rested his forehead against Kenny's. "D-do I make you hard?" he asked. Kenny's eyes fluttered shut as a low moan reverberated deep in his throat.

"Keep talking like that and you just might," he muttered. Butters should have read into that further, but the alcohol buzzing through his body told him not to care, told him that Kenny wanted him just as badly.

Butters was certain they would've ended up fucking too… if Butters hadn't been a total Melvin and passed out as soon as Kenny rolled them over.

* * *

They hadn't stopped hanging out. They hadn't mentioned that night, but they hadn't stopped hanging out. The thing was, Butters actually liked hanging around Kenny—not that he didn't love Wendy, Bebe, and Dougie, because he supposed he did in those important friendship-type ways, but Wendy got bored when Butters got upset, and Bebe wasn't very tactful about hot-button topics like Butters' parents, and Dougie was just a fifteen-year-old asshole half the time. No, Kenny was… Kenny was something else. He more than put up with Butters' occasional moods—in fact, he was very good at bringing him out of them. He was also very good at not making fun of Butters when he got a little too excited about Glee songs coming up on his iPod.

And Kenny… Kenny had to like hanging around Butters, because Kenny was a nice guy and all, but when he'd had enough of you, you'd be the first to know. Butters had even seen him yell at Stan once for being a pain in the ass, but that was because he was thinking of getting back together with Wendy and Kenny was about two ruptured blood vessels away from an aneurism. Truth be told, Butters hadn't liked the idea very much either, but he'd learned long ago to stay out of other people's affairs. Kenny made it his fucking business.

"I just want to help people," he always said. Butters just had to shrug and reply,

"You can't help people who don't want it."

Kenny sighed and drummed his fingers on the counter. Butters had dropped by the gas station to fill up—he'd only remembered that Kenny worked there when he walked in the door.

"Ugh," Kenny finally smacked his head against the little plastic window under which the lotto scratchers were displayed. Butters gave him a tentative pat on the head.

"Why are people so stupid, Butters?"

"Reckon they j-just can't help themselves," Butters said and grabbed a candy bar from the rack. "Can I get this too?"

"Sure," Kenny mumbled against the plastic.

"Ain'tcha even gonna see what it is?"

"Take whatever you want," Kenny whined. "I'll tie myself up and make it look like a robbery."

"It's… it's a kit-kat bar," Butters said. "I'm sure I can rummage up eighty-nine cents."

"Dude, just take it," Kenny looked up. "What's the point of working here if I can't get my friends free shit every once in a while?"

"Don't you have to pay for it, then?"

"And an egregious deduction from my paycheck it will be," Kenny deadpanned.

"Oh, good word," Butters whistled appreciatively. Kenny gave a lackluster wink that made Butters snort. "Say, wanna get me some free gas while we're at it, Romeo?"

"When I'm living in Hawaii with jetpacks and cars made out of solid gold, I'll invite you over and pump you full any time you want, sugartits." Butters blinked.

"Could've just said 'no'," he mumbled and broke his kit-kat in half. He extended one to Kenny, who took the candy gratefully.

"From now on," Kenny chewed thoughtfully, "I'm limiting our conversation. We're now only allowed to talk about you or me. The cheap affairs of others no longer concern us."

Butters laughed.

"Okay then," he said. "How're you doing today, Kenny?"

"Now that you mention it, Butters, I'm fan-_fucking_-tastic."

Butters cocked an eyebrow, which only made Kenny realize that he was entirely not fan-_fucking_-tastic, as he'd so eloquently put it, and was indeed on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

At least, that was how Butters interpreted Kenny's second head-to-counter smack of the last ten minutes.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about ourselves," Butters suggested. Kenny snorted and looked up, eyes travelling over the contents of the store with little interest. His eyes landed on the magazine stand.

"Guess we could always talk about porn or something," he smiled and hopped over the counter. Butters had to leap out of the way to avoid getting clipped by the cheap converse knockoffs.

"Tell me, my dearest Leopold," Kenny began as he grabbed a few magazines off of the rack, "what kind of porn do you like?"

Butters felt his face go warm as he mashed his knuckles together. Why had he… _son of a bitch, Butters, look what you got yourself into._

"Butters, you've seen porn," Kenny said very frankly in response to the slighter blonde's idle stammering. "Remember, we made you watch—"

"Y-yeah, I remember Backdoor Sluts Nine," Butters murmured. Kenny smiled.

"Well, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you're not into tits too much," he said and grabbed a few more magazines. He brought five magazines back to the counter, one of which he pushed toward Butters.

"It's the only gay one we stock," Kenny said, almost apologized. Butters gave a bashful laugh and hid his face in his hands.

"I don't l-like that—that one," he finally said. Kenny frowned.

"It's shrink-wrapped, dude. You haven't even looked at it yet."

"Y-yeah, but it's… crap," Butters sighed. "Could I tell you something?"

"Yeah, Butters, sure," Kenny nodded, suddenly very somber. Concerned. Butters still wasn't used to that look.

"Whe-when I was twelve, I was loo-lookin' for a suitcase to take on our family vacation," he began softly. "A-and I went into my mom and d-dad's room. There was a duffel bag on the top shelf of their closet, so I went to get a chair so I could gra-grab it, and it was stuffed full of those magazines."

Kenny let out a laugh.

"Shit, really?"

Butters pursed his lips and nodded.

"All addressed to my dad at a P.O Box number I _think_ my mom knows about, but I'm not sure."

Kenny could not. stop. laughing. See, this was why Butters didn't tell anybody anything. This was a horrible thing, and people only ever found it funny.

"Lighten up, Butters," Kenny wheezed. "So your dad's got a bunch of gay porn. No big deal."

"It's a little bit of a big deal," Butters assured him. "Especially when you realize that your parents don't really love each other and just stayed together because 'oh no, what will the neighbors think'. That… that sucks."

"Yeah," Kenny conceded and slung an arm around Butters' shoulder, "but think of what a chode you'd've been if your house'd been all Norman Rockwell and shit. Sad stuff makes people more bearable, you know? People like us? We turn out all right in the end, for the most part. As soon as tragedy strikes normal people? They fucking fall apart, dude. You and me? We're resilient bastards."

Butters smiled and looked over at Kenny—his twinkling blue eyes and dirty blonde hair were gorgeous on that handsome face. If Butters looked really hard…

"You know you've got a bit of red in your hair?" he asked without really thinking. Kenny gave a—timid smile? Was Kenny McCormick actually shy about something?

"My mom's a ginger, dude," he replied. "I guess it was bound to happen."

Butters smiled and fingered one of the tresses that hung low on Kenny's brow. Kenny looked at the finger and then into Butters' eyes, silently asking the question to which Butters had no answer. Butters wanted nothing more in that moment than to press his lips to Kenny's, to pin him to the counter and—no.

"You okay there, Butters?"

Butters nodded and dropped his hand.

"Fine."

Kenny smiled and gripped Butters' shoulder in an amiable display of 'it'll-all-be-all-right', undoubtedly hoping that it would convey all he wanted to say. Butters gave a tight smile back.

"All right, then," Kenny sighed. "On to the fun stuff. Any good gay sexcapades you wanna share?"

Butters felt his face go bright red, and Kenny just laughed. _What a bastard_.

"N-now why-why would I go and tell you some-something like that?"

Kenny shrugged and moved right into Butters' personal bubble… not that Butters could complain, seeing how he'd just invaded Kenny's personal space not two minutes before.

"Butters, you should know by now that I'm curious about all things sexual," Kenny said very earnestly. "You could be a furry and I'd ask you for all the details."

Butters rolled his eyes and pushed the shrink-wrapped magazine, the cover of which was riddled with muscular men and alluring gazes, as far away from his person as possible. Kenny smirked.

"Virgin, eh?"

"It's not a cri-crime," Butters said lightly. Kenny shook his head.

"Never said it was," he replied and looked at his fingernails. "Never had a crush on anyone? Never kissed another guy?"

"I have," Butters frowned. "Not including you."

Kenny frowned, confusion riddling his face for only a minute before his memory snapped into place and he gave a fond smile.

"Fuck, we were pretty drunk that night, huh?"

Butters gave half an amused smile and nodded. Kenny let out a sigh and stretched, catlike against the counter.

"So… who's this other guy you've kissed?"

"Um… Bradley?"

"Biggle?" Kenny snapped, blue eyes flashing with something akin to hatred. Butters drew back and shook his head.

"My-my friend Bradley from camp," he said. Kenny deflated. "Wh-why the hell would I mean Bradley Biggle?"

Kenny muttered something about overshadowing superhero bastards, but dropped the subject entirely when he appeared to realize something. He looked at Butters, smile positively lecherous as he moved a little closer.

"Got a thing for blondes there, Butters?"

Butters stammered a bit, tripping and fumbling over every word his tongue attempted to form, and Kenny seemed to think it was amusement fodder. Butters finally gave up and grabbed another candy bar off of the rack. Kenny grabbed his wrist gently and brushed his fingers along a lock of Butters' hair.

"Oh, the things you and I have in common," he murmured low and deep through a smile. Butters was pretty sure his spine was going to melt if Kenny closed that gap between them. A thousand thoughts a second were racing through Butters' head, blood pumped hard and fast against his artery walls, Kenny was so fucking close to closing those full, delicious-looking lips over his…

And then of course someone had to pull up to the pump and honk mercilessly, reminding Butters that his car had been done filling up for the last twenty minutes. Butters dropped the candy and leaped back, away from Kenny, who looked more than a little lust-struck.

"I'd –I'd better go," Butters mumbled and grabbed his keys from the counter. He walked away, dazed, and most-definitely didn't pull the door instead of push when trying to make his escape.


	3. Chapter 3

A 2 am update? Moi? How out of character for me. Another chapter, another day. Enjoy, kids.

Apologies for any errors-I may go back eventually and fix anything my tired eyes missed.

* * *

"You what?"

Butters felt himself grow smaller underneath Wendy's disapproving glare. They were in her room, Butters sitting cross-legged, shamefully, upon her bed, while she cut and pasted the finishing touches onto the holiday dance poster. Currently, she held pinking shears rather threateningly, and it really made Butters wish he hadn't said anything… but he had, and now he had to explain. _Oh, Butters, why do you ever open your big mouth?_

"First, you should know that it definitely wasn't my fault," Butters began, knuckles practically fused together. Wendy raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, fine," Butters whined, "but… you try resisting him!"

"I don't _have_ to," Wendy grimaced. "He's incredibly perverted, disgusting… He uses people, Butters. He's slept with just about every girl in school, and do you really think he cares about any of them? Nope. For god's sake, he and Bebe have been sleeping together on and off for the last two months and he still treats her like shit."

"He treats her like everyone else, Wendy," Butter frowned. "She just wants more and's too chicken to admit it."

Wendy scowled and stood, walking over to Butters and waving the jagged scissors very threateningly in his face.

"Don't take his side in this, _Leopold_," she warned.

"Now, jus-just a second," Butters pushed the scissors from his face, "who's taking sides? I'm just saying that Kenny can't be expected to treat her differently when he doesn't know what she wants."

Wendy narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. Butters couldn't stand her when she was like this, all uppity and convinced that she was ultimately right. Usually she was good about black-and-white situations and grey areas, but this… well, she loved Bebe with all her heart, and… chicks before dicks, as the old saying goes.

"Look," Butters began, "we didn't even kiss… that time."

"There's been more than one time?" Wendy screeched. Butters rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but _I_ kissed _him_ and if anything I was taking advantage of him," he explained wearily. Wendy raised her eyebrows.

"You did?"

Butters nodded.

"I re-really like him, Wendy," he admitted softly. Wendy's expression turned to one of pity as she sat beside her friend, pinking shears now on the ground as she moved to extend a comforting arm.

"It's just—" she began. "What about Bradley? You like Bradley, don't you?" Butters shrugged.

"I do, but… he's halfway across the state," he said.

"But you like him!" Wendy encouraged sweetly. "And a relationship has to be based on more than sex or attraction."

"Whoa, now," Butters threw up his hands and scooted out of her comforting embrace. "Who said anything about a relationship?"

"I just—"

"Wendy, I'm going to college in a few months," Butters laughed, "heck, I can't be worrying about a relationship right now."

"Okay, _fine_," Wendy conceded, "no relationships, but… Kenny? He's just not the type of guy I thought you'd end up with, you know?"

"No…" Butters frowned. "Explain?" Wendy sighed and blew her black bangs out of her eyes.

"Look, you're a nice guy, right?" she began earnestly. "You need another nice guy who's not going to take advantage of you."

"Kenny _is_ a nice guy," Butters said, not entirely understanding what Wendy was getting at. Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she said. "He's a nice guy? I'll buy that. But I don't think he's the type you want to be seriously invested in, you know?"

"And what's that?"

"He's straight, Butters," Wendy finally blurted out. "You don't want to be someone's experiment, all right? It just… it hurts too much when they finally realize you're not what they want."

Butters sighed—of course this would turn into the Wendy show—and scooted closer to her, this time wrapping her in a hug. Wendy gave a small smile and laughed at herself, presumably for being such a 'girl' about the whole thing. Butters went over the calendar he kept in his brain and figured she must've been close to getting…well, _that_.

"You're so sweet," she said through her smile. "So adorable, and so _good_… Honey, you deserve so much better than him."

Butters let her bury her face in his chest—that way she couldn't see the hideously ostentatious eye-roll he'd just given.

* * *

As was custom with every passing month, Butters steered clear of Wendy and Bebe for at least a week. Whatever god of menstruation that existed was obviously a spiteful one, because synchronous periods were not the brain-child of a god who wanted the eternal love of his or her subjects.

Normally, Butters would eat with Dougie and his friends during these weeks, or, better yet, in the library where he couldn't be disturbed. But Dougie was sick today and the library was closed for a staff meeting and so all Butters could do was wander idly around the cafeteria until Kenny flagged him over rather emphatically.

"You aren't surrounded by your usual crowd," Butters said warmly as he sat across from Kenny, who only saw fit to shrug as he chomped on his half-frozen crinkle-cut fries.

"Cartman has a debate club thing today, Kyle's out today, and Stan's… I don't know, probably blowing Kyle wherever he is."

Butters snorted and opened his chocolate milk, relishing in the first sip he took. Kenny smiled at him.

"What about you?" he asked. "Where's Wonder Woman and… I can't think of a blonde girl superhero."

"Sailor Moon?" Butters offered. Kenny barked out a laugh.

"Man, I haven't thought about that show in forever… Seriously, I jerked off hardcore to that cartoon, dude," he said, and then realized to whom he was talking. He coughed.

"So," he began, "where's your harem?"

"Good word," Butters said appreciatively, automatically, like some sort of weird word-nerd tic, "um… they're both sort of… I'm just gonna steer clear for a while."

"Both sort of what?" Kenny asked. Butters made a hand gesture that really should've indicated much more than it so often got across. Kenny seemed to get the idea anyway.

"Both sort of bleeding out of their vaginal orifices?" he asked brightly. Butters turned a rather sallow shade of green and regarded his lunch tray with a little more disgust than usual. Kenny laughed. "They both bitch at you nonstop or what?"

"Bebe's just mean and Wendy cries a lot," Butters shrugged. Kenny nodded. Butters nodded back. It wasn't awkward. It was. not. awkward.

"Man, this shit's terrible," Kenny idly gestured toward his food. "Kinda makes you miss Chef, huh?"

Butters gave a nod, something much more pressing on the forefront of his mind at the moment. Now, should he say it or just keep it to himself? That was the million dollar question. He looked up at Kenny, who, for once, was keeping that stupid, beautiful stare to himself. Okay, Butters had to do it—he had to know.

"Ca-can I ask you something?" he asked. Kenny looked up, a rather uncertain, innocent air about him as he nodded. Butters bit his lip and leaned against the table.

"You like girls, don't you?"

"Hi, I'm Kenny McCormick—have we met? You look familiar," Kenny smirked and extended his hand. Butters rolled his eyes, but took the hand. Sarcastic gesture or not, maybe it could help him extract some valuable information_. Here goes nothing_…

"And it's not you compensating or anything?" Butters asked. Kenny raised an eyebrow, ever-present grin firmly in place.

"Are you asking me if I'm gay, Butters?"

Butters shrugged and sat back, not so sure bringing this up had really been the best idea. Kenny just rolled his eyes and started drawing patterns on the table. Butters made a mental note of how chapped and worn his hands were.

"I've always liked girls," Kenny said very softly. "And sex. Sex is fucking incredible. Both of 'em together is the best thing ever. But…"

"What?"

"When I was, like, fourteen I started getting a little curious about guys too," Kenny shrugged. "It was like… I just had to know if I was missing anything."

"So you've slept with another guy, then?" Butters asked, entirely wishing that this conversation was not happening at all.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Kenny laughed. "This town barely shows up on Google Earth—not exactly a wealth of guys willing to fuck around, as I'm sure you're well aware of. Despicable, really, when you think about it. I mean, I'm sure I could bed Craig easily… but I'm not entirely sure that he wouldn't bite my dick off given the first chance."

Butters raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

"So, this is what I'm hearing," Butters began, "you know I'm gay, you decide I'm an easy lay, and have been trying to woo me ever since?" Kenny snorted and stabbed at his greasy lasagna with the butt-end of his spork.

"Butters, come on," he said, "if I were trying to seduce you, you'd know. You've seen me around women." When Butters seemed unconvinced, he continued, "look, dude, first and foremost, you're my friend, and if you don't want any part in this, I totally understand. It's kind of fucked for me to ask you to be a guinea pig when you're—"

"Do you like kissing me, Kenny?" Butters asked, no longer willing to wait. Kenny smirked.

"Being that I've only done it once, I can't really make an informed decision," he said, "but I wouldn't be wholly upset if I had to do it again… sober, this time. There you go—three words I thought I'd never say."

Butters grinned and grabbed his tray of half-eaten lunch in one hand. He used the other to sling his bag over his shoulder, and when he finally looked down at poor Kenny, so unaware of what was happening, his smile turned mischievous.

"I need to use the bathroom up on the fourth floor," he said. "That's where I'll be in five minutes."

* * *

"Leopold Stotch, were you flirting with me?"

Kenny was pink in the face, having just run up three flights of stairs to find Butters perched on one of the sinks opposite the urinals. Butters looked over, a coy smile playing at his lips as he hopped off the sink and approached the taller boy. He fingered the zipper of Kenny's hoodie, silently thrilled at the slight intake of breath he heard escape Kenny's mouth. He looked up and smiled, because he couldn't seem to stop smiling at all.

"You-you gonna stand there and gape or are you gonna kiss me?"

Kenny looked dumbstruck and so Butters figured he'd have to do a little more facilitating than he'd originally planned, because this was happening whether Kenny initiated it or not. He grabbed Kenny's wrist and pulled him into the far stall, but before he could lock the latch, Kenny seemed to have taken the hint and instead used Butters to pin the door shut.

"So _fucking_ hot," Kenny breathed against his lips. Butters gave a small scowl of disapproval and mashed his lips against Kenny's in response. The guy was _'curious'_, probably confused—Kenny McCormick, wonder of the sexual world, was going to need a little help on this front. Butters brought a hand up to the base of the dirty blonde's skull and moved to deepen the kiss, excitement coming in quick pulses as Kenny's lips moved pliant and warm against his.

"Wait," Kenny pulled back slightly, eyes now little more than blue-rimmed black pools of lust. "What if someone comes in?" Butters looked down and yeah, two pairs of legs was a little suspicious. He looked up at Kenny and smiled.

"Ready?" he breathed and wrapped his arms around Kenny's neck. Kenny grinned as Butters hopped up and wrapped his legs around his slim waist. The slighter blonde wasted no time in returning them to their kiss, all lips and tongue and _fuck_ it felt so _goddamned_ good.

And, okay, yeah, Butters _had_ done this before. After he'd learned to drive, Butters found himself meeting up with Bradley more and more and _Jesus_, the things Bradley could do with that tongue of his when it wasn't spouting off scripture.

But it was nothing like this. Bradley was timid, still confused, still unsure of himself, and yeah, he was particularly skilled in oral regards… but the last thing Kenny was was shy.

Kenny's hands were everywhere, groping, feeling, mapping out every bit of Butters that he could, scrutinizing—determining whether or not Butters' body was good enough to evoke sexual response. Butters was pretty certain he was winning. What he was winning he was not entirely sure, but Kenny's kisses were becoming more and more desperate, so… that had to count for something.

And Butters was hard. Fuck, he was so hard. Truth be told, he'd been at half-mast since Kenny had walked into the bathroom, but now? Criminey, with Kenny's hands absolutely _everywhere_ on him it was a little difficult to keep his arousal at bay. Kenny didn't seem to mind, just shifted his weight to press agonizingly against it. Butters threw his head back, culminating in a loud '_thunk!'_ as his head hit the door behind him. Kenny stood panting, still pinning Butters' body against the stall door as he started pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses onto the shorter boy's neck. Butters gripped a handful of Kenny's hair and yanked.

"Oh, my God, you're going to be the end of me," Kenny whispered, ghost of a smile on his face at the feeling of Butter's hand in his hair. Butters smirked.

"Like that?" he murmured against Kenny's ear. Kenny nodded and pressed his lips to Butters' once more, chaste but firm.

"Think we could get a quickie in right now?" he asked, a tease of a smile playing at his face. Butters rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly just as the bell rang. Kenny let out a whine and let Butters back down on the ground.

"Do you have to go to fifth period?" he asked.

"Yeah, 'cause then I have to go to sixth period," Butters replied and gave Kenny a once-over. Not quite as debauched as Butters had seen him in the past, but he was definitely more than a bit lust-drunk, and way more than a little hard.

"Can we please finish this after school?" Kenny pleaded. Butters shook his head very softly, as though he didn't want Kenny to know he was effectively rejecting him.

"Drama rehearsal," he sighed in explanation. "They'll be done after next week. That's when the show is."

"Ugh!" Kenny grunted in frustration, "Why the fuck do you even go to those goddamned things?"

"I have to, Kenny," Butters explained frankly, "I'm in the play—I'm Amos."

"What?"

"We're doing Chicago," Butters said, "I'm Amos."

"I don't know what the fuck any of those words mean," Kenny screwed his eyes shut and leaned against one of the walls of the stall. "Do you think it's in poor taste to jerk off into the toilet?"

"I'm sure this bathroom's seen worse," Butters shrugged and turned to look over at the closed door. He looked back at Kenny and smiled.

"I'll see you later," he said and moved to exit the bathroom, silently reveling in the very emphatic "Cock-tease!" he received upon his departure.

* * *

"What did you do at school today, Butters?"

_Made out in a bathroom stall like any other slut. How about your day, mom?_

Shrug, "nothin' really."

"You kids," his dad began. "We ask how your day goes and you tell us nothing happened, like you just sit there at school and stare at blank walls all day."

Butters pushed his peas around on his plate with his fork and sighed.

"I got an 'A' on my statistics test," he said. "And the play's going re-real well. Should be re-real fun."

His dad nodded, accepting this answer as viable, and went on sipping from his wine glass. Butters ate a few more bites before he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

"Now, Butters," said his mother as he reached for his phone, "you know there's no texting at the dinner table."

"Bu-but it might be important!"

"Butters, that's enough out of you," his father interjected. "You finish your dinner like a normal human being."

Butters suppressed the eye roll that _would_ have gotten him grounded had he dared execute it. He finished his dinner in a timely manner, excused himself and washed his plate in an orderly fashion, and ran up to his room, phone in hand. A text from Kenny. Sweet Jesus, Butters couldn't remember the last time his hands shook this badly.

_need 2 finish what we started._

Butters blinked at the text, glanced at the time, and began a shaky reply.

_Depends—what's 'finishing'?_

Barely a moment before,

_ur killin me, stotch. _

Butters smirked and bit his lip, feeling every inch the blushing teenage girl. He fingered the buttons on keyboard and tried to think of something good to say, but… there was a serious lack of blood brainward bound. He'd told Wendy he could handle sex without a relationship, and being that he'd never really had a relationship… well, he didn't see how it wouldn't be easy. He typed a quick reply out and tossed the phone on his bed. Now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

Butters wasn't sure how he'd gotten through the last three and a half hours, but he'd done most of his homework, watched a bit of TV, and bade a warm goodnight to his parents all with excruciating will-power in the erection-killing department.

Kenny was at his door at 10:30 on the dot, a bright, mischievous smile on his handsome face. Butters was about to warn him to keep quiet until they were in his room, but Kenny decided instead to take advantage of the smaller boy's open mouth and pull him into a kiss. Butters whined and entertained the thought of pushing Kenny away. What if the neighbors saw?

Ugh, that sounded too much like his mother. Strike that—please to continue trying to eat Kenny's face in the doorway.

"Shit," Kenny breathed when they pulled apart. Butters all but shoved him in the house and looked around at the windows of each house, ensuring that no one had seen…

"You're a lot stronger than you look, dude," Kenny laughed. Butters rolled his eyes and shut the front door, finally satisfied that they'd remained unseen. He walked over to Kenny, chanced a look around the house to double-check that they were alone, and pulled him into another kiss. Boys who didn't care about relationships were _very_ assertive when it came to this kind of thing.

A door slam, footfalls, and some disgruntled coughing had Butters pushing Kenny down on the floor, obscured from the view from the stairs behind the plushy couch. His mother was at the middle of the staircase with a curious scowl on her face, as predicted.

"Butters, what are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I was just headin' down here for a glass of water before bed," he explained very timidly.

"Did I hear you open the front door?"

"We-well, there was a spider on the wall a-and I figured I'd let him out is all," he scuffed his feet on the carpet. Why didn't lies come this easily all the time? Maybe when one was already engaging in one kind of sin, the others all came much more easily.

"Well, turn off the light when you're done," she said and climbed back up the stairs. Butters watched her go, apparently way too convinced by his own lie because Kenny scared him way too easily when he grabbed at his ankle. Butters held himself under very careful control until he heard a door close and the footsteps settle. He then crouched down and pulled Kenny's hood entirely off his head.

"That was way too close, mister," he said softly. Kenny smiled and pulled Butters down on top of him.

"You were the one who invited me over," he ever-so graciously reminded and kissed Butters' throat. Butters sighed.

"We can't go finishin' anything now," he said. "It was a long shot that they'd be asleep anyway."

"So why am I here?" Kenny asked and caught Butters' eye. Butters bit his lip again—man, it was gonna fall off if he kept on like this—and pressed a chaste kiss to Kenny's lips.

"Maybe it's just a sign that we have to take it slow, you know?" he asked. "I mean, since we keep gettin' interrupted and all, maybe it's God saying you—_we're_ not supposed to go so fast."

"Yeah," Kenny pursed his lips, "McCormicks don't really do 'slow'… unless it's that fancy book-learnin' stuff."

"I'll keep you away from the ce-ment pond then, Jethro," Butters rolled his eyes affably. Kenny grinned and brought him into a kiss. Butters pulled away and gave Kenny a calculating, amused stare.

"And if you'll recall," he continued, "my voice didn't drop until we were fourteen, so I'm the very definition of 'slow'. Looks like we're meetin' somewhere in the middle."

"And what's the middle?" Kenny asked. Butters shrugged.

"Shut up and I guess we'll find out."

* * *

The middle turned out to be making out for a good hour and a half on the Stotch's carpet before moving up to Butters' room and kissing lazily on the bed. They ended the night by falling asleep on each other. Butters had meant to say that Kenny could only stay until one, so they could both get some sleep before school the next morning, but… Butters fell asleep before Kenny and while Kenny was very intuitive, a mind-reader he was not.

Butters jolted awake at about five in the morning on the grounds that something was awry in his bed. Sure enough, when he saw that mop of dirty blonde hair on his pillow beside him he had a bit of a mini panic attack and vehemently shook the other boy to consciousness.

"Shit, did I fall asleep here, dude?" Kenny groaned. "Sorry 'bout that—'m kind of a heavy sleeper."

"Yeah, you gotta go," Butters said very firmly. "My parents'll be in here to wake me up in an hour a-and I can't have 'em see you here."

"Dude, we've got a whole hour?" Kenny asked and stretched lazily against the covers. Oh, Butters' bed was going to smell like Kenny now—he could feel it. Good God, why was _that_ a turn-on?

"Got some morning wood there, Buttercup?"

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Uh, 'cause I don't have a va-vagina, tha-that's why. No-now you have to go."

Butters accepted that falling asleep in the same bed could've been construed as 'meeting in the middle'—he could live with that like nobody's business. What he was most-entirely certain was not 'meeting in the middle' was Kenny's hand snaking into his pajama pants and grabbing his… his… _aw, shit._

"You're wound way too tight, Leopold," Kenny breathed against his ear. "Not likely this'll do too much to loosen you up, but it's worth a shot, huh?"

"You-you talk an awful lot," Butters stammered. Kenny laughed—_god, he laughed a lot too_—but Butters couldn't be bothered to care. Someone was touching him. _Kenny_ was touching him. Sure, this was probably all some big experiment in Kenny's mind, but that didn't keep it from feeling so _goddamn_ good. He was almost ashamed that he didn't have it in him to last a decent amount of time (what the hell was 'decent' anyway? Hell if Butters knew), but Kenny chocked it up to his being so uptight.

"Not as bad as you were when we were kids," Kenny explained and wiped his hand on Butters' sheets. _Great_, now he'd have to explain that to his mom on laundry day. Maybe he should just start doing his own load—aw, crap, now the word 'load' had too many dirty connotations—

"You're seventeen," Kenny said flatly. "If your mom has to ask you about stains then you should run away to a family that understands the physiology of a teenage male."

Apparently, the only way one could shut Kenny up was by kissing the ever-loving crap out of him. Hand jobs were not so effective in that department, because if you weren't muffling his mouth he was really… really loud. Probably bred from all those years muffled under that parka.

"Keep quiet and I'll let you come, how 'bout that?" Butters breathed against the shell of Kenny's ear. Kenny threw his head back and held his breath. Good _God_, that was hot. Butters picked up his pace, desperate to see the look on Kenny's face when he—

"Holy _fucking _Christ."

Butters didn't have time to chastise before his hand was coated in warm, sticky fluid. It was probably the lack of sleep that was compelling the crap out of Butters to lick his hand clean. He resisted the urge and followed Kenny's example; he was going to need new sheets before bed tonight.

"Butters, has anyone told you how amazing you are?"

"Depends," Butters said, "has anyone mentioned how still 'in-my-bed' you are?" Kenny gaped and propped himself up on his elbow, shocked and appalled, apparently, at what the younger boy had just said.

"After that beautiful moment we just shared?" he asked. "You're just going to treat me like a common whore?"

"You _are _a common whore, Kenny," Butters rolled his eyes, brain filter still not entirely recovered from sleep and orgasm. "Not that this wasn't lovely, but my parents _will _castrate me if they find you in my bed with spooge all over my sheets."

"Seriously, Butters, you're possibly one of my favorite people," Kenny laughed and flopped back on the bed. Butters gave a melodramatic sigh and reached over to brush some of Kenny's hair out of his eyes.

"I suppose I can live with bein' one of your favorite people if you can live with bein' one of mine."

"I guess I can live with that."

"Good, now go back home so I can keep my boys in their rightful place," Butters clapped his hands. Kenny laughed and kissed Butters full on the mouth. Gosh, he was making it really difficult to be short with him.

Eventually he coaxed Kenny out of his bed and out his window. Kenny stood below in the snow, hood up, drawstrings hanging loosely on his chest.

"See you at school," he whispered in the pale light of the streetlamps. Butters nodded and watched the tall boy practically sprint down the sidewalk back toward his side of town.

Aw, jeeze—what the hell had Butters gotten himself into?


	4. Chapter 4

What ho? A **Kenny** chapter? Well, spit in my mouth and call me Sally, howdya like that? No real explanation for it other than "that's just how it happened".

All mistakes are my own, take it up with my agent. :P

* * *

"Dude, why the hell do you need to borrow _Chicago_?"

Wow, Stan picked the most spectacular times to be a pain in the ass.

"Drama club's putting on a production this week and I get extra credit in my English class if I go," Kenny shrugged.

"Why do you want to watch it?"

"So I know what it's about when I go," Kenny groused out. Jesus Christ, Kyle was no better in the ass-pain department.

Stan and Kyle looked at each other in that way that only two total gay-wads look at each other when they can't make sweet passionate love to each other at the first possible second. Kenny sighed and blew his bangs out of his face. Man, his hair was getting dirty. He probably should have showered after the other day with Butters, but there was no hot water at his house and cold showers were no fun for Kenny McCormick.

"Dude, can you two stop eye-fucking each other and just give me _Chicago_?"

Stan frowned but stood, assumedly to retrieve the movie.

"It's just… it's Shelly's copy and it's, like, one of her favorite movies."

"I'm not going to jerk off onto the shiny side and put it back in the case, Stan."

"Ew," Kyle muttered as Stan left to go find the movie. Kenny sat in Stan's seat and looked down at his homework.

"You're helping him with trig?"

"Yeah, dude, it's not hard," Kyle shrugged. "You could even do it if you tried."

Kenny looked at the graph in front of him, paired with the equation below it, and may have felt his brain hemorrhage just a little bit. Kyle rolled his eyes and started in on a lengthy explanation… because Kyle was really bad at knowing when people just didn't give a shit about what he was saying. When Stan came back in the room, Kenny was fully prepared to grovel at his feet in thanks for freeing him from Kyle's inane drivel.

"So, I texted Shelly and she says you can't take it," Stan said as he fiddled with the DVD case in his hands, "but no one's using the TV or anything, so you're totally welcome to watch it here."

At this Kyle scowled.

"No way, man," he said. "You told me you needed help with your homework and that's what we're doing. Kenny, watch it here tomorrow or something."

"Dude, _Kenny_ wants to watch it," Stan raised an eyebrow, "no one said we had to."

"Stan," Kyle said very frankly, "have you ever seen this movie?"

"Yeah, it was okay," Stan shrugged.

"_Okay_?" Kyle asked, obviously offended. "Look, Stan, 'okay' doesn't get you six Academy Awards."

"Are you making that number up? I swear you're making that number up."

Kenny blinked and scooted his chair back to get this all in frame—the ping-pong arguments were his favorite kind, when he could just sit back and watch words bounce from one party's mouth to the other's.

"Kenny, will you just take the goddamned movie?" Stan finally shouted and threw the case right at Kenny's chest.

"You guys have popcorn?"

"What? No! Watch your shitty movie and leave us alone."

"It was not shitty!" Kyle snapped. Kenny just rolled his eyes and left for the Marsh's living room. The McCormick family didn't have a DVD player, but thankfully they were about as self-explanatory as could be.

Sex in the opening number—major points already. Chicks in short skirts, dancing around in an epileptic fit of glitz and glam? Well, Kenny wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the glitz and the glam, but murder? That was definitely a big plus. Christ, how was a high school putting on this play without Kyle's mom shitting her pants?

The front door opened and out of the corner of his eye, Kenny could see Mrs. Marsh stumble in with an armful of groceries.

"Stan, I'm home—oh, hello there, Kenny."

"Hi, Mrs. Marsh," Kenny replied absently, too fixated on the size of Queen Latifah's tits really to be bothered with too much else.

"Hey, mom," Stan said as he and Kyle exited the kitchen. Stan moved to help his mom with the groceries while Kyle immediately took a place on the couch beside Kenny.

"Aw, goddamnit Kenny!" Stan cried.

"Language, Stanley," his mother chided half-heartedly as she shed her large winter coat and hung it by the door.

"But mom, Kenny's stupid _need_ to watch this movie made me lose my math tutor," Stan whined as he took the two large grocery bags out of his mother's arms and walked back toward the kitchen.

"Well, if you're so concerned, Kyle can just spend the night," Mrs. Marsh sighed and looked at the screen. "Oh, you boys are watching _Chicago_? I thought that was Shelly's movie."

"It is," Kyle replied, "we're just watching it because our school is putting it on as their winter show and Kenny's English teacher is offering extra credit to whoever goes to see it."

"Oh, that's nice," Mrs. Marsh smiled. "Stan, don't you and Kenny have the same English teacher?"

"Aw-awwww!"

"Well, a little extra credit couldn't hurt, Stanley," Mrs. Marsh called to her son as she sat on the arm of the couch, presumably staying to watch only for a minute before she went to cook dinner. She slid into the empty seat beside Kenny not too long after.

"That's right, Mrs. Marsh," Kenny said quietly, "let it consume you." Kyle snorted.

"Hey, mom, what are we—aw, son of a bitch!"Stan cried upon seeing the threesome on the couch. "Mom, you need to make dinner!"

"Dude, make dinner yourself," Kenny replied automatically. Half-naked ladies on the screen=aneurism.

"Just order a pizza, Stanley, for goodness sake."

Kenny heard Stan heave a sigh and could practically _see_ him pinch his nose as he grabbed the phone off the side table, even heard a low 'goddamnit' as he left to find the take out menu.

* * *

Stan ended up being more than his share of pissed off that he had to go see the play. They were sitting a few rows from the back of the theater, just behind Craig and Tweek, who were also there, Kenny presumed, for the extra credit. Kenny pushed this out of his head and focused on Stan, telling him to forget about Kyle for a night and enjoy the dancing girls onstage.

"Like you used to!"

"What do you mean 'used to'?"

"You know," Kenny shrugged. "Before you fell madly in love with Kyle you used to love dancing girls. Remember, Stan? Remember the days of tits and pussy and—"

"Dude, shut up," Stan wrinkled his nose. "Wendy and I broke up, like, a few months ago. I'm not ready to move on."

"Fucking Kyle doesn't count? That's cold."

"We're not fucking."

At which point Craig whipped around and gave them a cold lingering glare of death.

"I don't care who you shitbags are fucking—shut the fuck up."

"Would you calm down, Craig?" Kenny sighed. "Christ, the show hasn't even started."

"What the fuck ever, I don't want to hear about the depraved shit either of you gets up to when no one's around, especially you, McCormick."

"Maybe you won't give a shit once I suck your dick," Kenny shrugged, leaning forward in his seat so he was very, very close to Craig's ear. "You'll find there's very little to complain about after I've had my depraved way with you."

Craig pushed Kenny's face away and moved, along with Tweek, to find another seat. Kenny looked over at Stan, whose eyebrow couldn't have been closer to colliding with his hairline.

"What?" Kenny snapped. Stan shrugged.

"Interesting," he muttered. Kenny rolled his eyes and sunk in his chair as a perky little bespectacled girl came out on stage to tell people to turn off their cell phones and enjoy the show.

The first few minutes passed without much interest—the girls were way more covered up than the ones in the movie—and Kenny found himself wondering how Butters was going to perform in front of so many people with such a bad stutter.

But then he was onstage and, Good God, whenever this play was supposed to be taking place—the twenties or something?—yeah, that was totally where Butters belonged. Hair slicked back, suspenders, a _bowtie_… yes, he looked like a doofus, but at least it wouldn't have been anachronistic in the twenties.

Kenny watched Butters move around onstage and, dorky or not, he was… _Fuck_, he was good-looking. Just a few altercations to the costume and Kenny would've cast him as the lawyer guy without any hesitation.

"Dude, are you fucking ogling Butters?"

"No," Kenny said very quickly. Because that wasn't. suspicious. at all. Stan just looked at him in that stupid way he did and muttered in that stupid voice of his.

"Interesting."

* * *

The only reason Kenny kept sneaking up on Butters was that moment of revelation on Butters' face, the moment between sheer horror and annoyance when Butters realized that it was Kenny and _gosh_ did he like Kenny… Kenny at least imagined that Butters' thought process sounded something like that.

"Good show tonight."

Butters let out a little yelp and spun around, fully prepared to wreak havoc on an attacker with his car keys. Kenny felt a warm fuzziness coat his insides when the smaller blonde registered who exactly had scared the living daylights out of him and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anyone tell you that you probably shouldn't sneak up on people in dark parking lots?" Butters asked lightly, kind-of-sort-of amused behind those heavily lidded eyes. Kenny bit his lip and smiled.

"I figure I should start building up a tolerance to mace," he shrugged.

"Hooray for rape jokes," Butters muttered under his breath. Kenny's smile widened as he approached the car, hands in his jacket pockets as he searched his brain for something new to say. Luckily, Butters went first.

"That's real nice that you came, though, Kenny," he gave a small smile. Kenny smirked and leaned on the driver's side door.

"You kidding?" he asked. "You don't just give me a hand job, ignore me all week, and expect me not to come to your show."

The younger boy flushed bright pink and Kenny couldn't help it—he had to kiss him.

Butters' lips were soft between Kenny's… kind of like a girl's lips but without all that sweet crap they insisted on wearing. He ran his fingertips over the back of the smaller boy's neck, up his neck, and along his jaw and—stubble? Facial hair. Of course Butters had facial hair. Why… god, why was that such a weird thought to wrap his head around? Kenny pulled back but kept his fingers on the jaw before him—angled and long and covered in new croppings up of stubble.

"O-oh," Butters muttered. "I ha-haven't really had ti-time to shave this week, so I just didn't bother this morning. Kinda added character anyway."

"It's not bad," Kenny decided aloud. "Just a little surprising. And seriously, this is all you have after a week of not shaving?"

"We-well, yeah," Butters shrugged and leaned against his car. Self-conscious.

"No, it's not a bad thing," Kenny laughed. "Just… a week without shaving and I get kind of…"

"Scruffy?"

"Homeless-looking."

"Ah."

"It's cool, Butters," Kenny smiled. "Some guys are just hairy. Ever seen Stan in a swimsuit? Horrifying."

Butters let out a little laugh and smiled weakly. He was tired—after a show like that, who could blame him?

"Maybe I should drive you home," Kenny said, not bothering to mention that Stan had given him a ride there and had left not two seconds after the show was over. "You look way too tired and it's been really icy out lately." Butters looked up at him as though they'd never met before, wary of the young man before him, and attempted to unlock the driver's door. When it proved that he was too tired to do even that, Kenny grabbed the keys from him and escorted him to the passenger's side.

"Do you have a license?" Butters asked. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I have a license," he sighed. "I just don't have a car. Now get in the passenger's seat before I put you there."

"How'll you get home?" Butters wondered aloud as he moved to meet Kenny's demands.

"Well, being that it's a Friday night, I figured a sleepover might be okay."

"Are you kidding?" Butters whined. "I was—I just… Kenny, I'm sleepy!"

"Which is why I'm driving you home," Kenny said as he got in the car. He started the engine up and let it run for a few minutes. It really was too fucking cold in this goddamn town.

"I don't want to sex tonight."

"Or form coherent sentences, apparently," Kenny smirked and backed out of the parking space. He drove in complete silence to Butters' house, and even though he was lonely and would've loved to talk, Butters had fallen asleep and he was way too peaceful-looking to disturb. He waited all the way until Butters' car was in the driveway, all shut up and whatnot, to wake the smaller boy and ask for the key to the front door. Even if he and Butters got married and retired to South Beach to open up a drag club, Kenny would still count the night he slung Butters over his shoulder and carried him up to his room as the gayest thing he'd ever done or would ever do.

He set the sleeping boy on his bed, the key upon the bookcase beside the door, toed off his shoes, pulled Butters' very forcefully from his feet (fucking nerds and their double-knots), and pulled the covers over both of them. He almost didn't even care that Butters would wake in a few hours and yell at him to leave.

Walking home in this cold was going to be hellish to the nth degree, but he'd deal, because it was Butters and Butters was his friend… his adorably handsome friend who had no problem with jerking him off. No problems, at least, as far as Kenny could tell. Maybe he was reading way too far into it—

"You're in my bed."

Kenny rolled over to find Butters' gaze locked firmly upon him. Kenny tried to brush it off with a smile but knew he wasn't doing a very good job of conveying any form of nonchalance. He brushed at Butters' bangs with his fingers.

"You want me to leave?" he asked softly. Butters sighed and shook his head.

"Just stay on your side," he said. "Don't want my parents getting too suspicious."

Kenny smiled. Sleep came way too easily after that.

* * *

Maybe it was because of the ridiculously comfortable mattress, maybe Butters had chickened out in the middle of the night, or, hell, Kenny could've honestly just fallen. The point was, somehow he ended up on Butters' floor the next morning without a clue as to why. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and saw Butters, freshly showered, sitting at his desk and browsing facebook. Kenny smirked and snuck up behind him, taking good care to plant a kiss on his stubble-free cheek.

"Hey, Kenny," Butters laughed. "How'd you sleep?"

"I woke up on the floor," Kenny shrugged. "I've had worse Friday nights." Butters rolled his eyes and swiveled around in his desk chair. Kenny had to keep his tongue in his head at the sight—Butters, hair still a little wet from his shower, in a plain white t-shirt and baggy jeans. Son of a bitch, there'd been plenty of air in his lungs before. Butters followed Kenny's gaze and blushed.

"Oh, w-well,—" Kenny was on his lap now "—it's laundry day a-and thi-this—" sucking and licking at his neck now "—is the only thing I really have to w-w-wea—_oh god_."

"Tell me, Leopold," Kenny began, too eager for his own good. "What kind of porn do you have on that computer of yours?"

"I-I don't have any," Butters muttered. Kenny snorted and licked a thick stripe from his collarbone up to just under his jaw.

"You're seventeen-years-old and you have your own computer—don't lie."

"Ke-Kenny… my pa-parents."

"Like I've never had to hide from someone's parents before," Kenny smiled. Butters whined and pulled him into a kiss. There was something so ridiculously satisfying about breaking down Butters' resolve. Kenny gripped Butters' damp hair in his hands and gave his hips a little thrust forward.

This made something in Butters' brain snap. Kenny soon found himself sprawled out flat on the floor, pinned there (because Butters _pinned_ his _fucking_ wrists _above_ his head) as the younger boy just went to _town_ on him—biting, kissing, licking, thrusting, stroking, and _ohsweetmercifulgod_, how was this kid still a virgin?

"Wanna know why I don't watch porn anymore?" Butters breathed in Kenny's ear, voice soft and low and husky and Kenny could definitely get used to hearing that sound forever.

"Why?" Kenny asked. He needed to hear more—it was a vital necessity. Absolutely vital.

"Because I couldn't stop once I started," Butters replied and nipped at Kenny's earlobe.

"Ever think you might be a sex addict?"

Butters didn't answer, just ground his hips against Kenny's and smiled. Kenny took advantage of the moment and flipped them, taking extra care to sit right on Butters' hard-on. Butters groaned.

"Fu-fuck me?"

Kenny's heart may have stopped just a little bit. Not enough to send him into cardiac arrest, but Butters could be responsible for his first death in months if he wasn't careful. But there he was—all earnest and red in the face, chest heaving and blue eyes wide. Holy shit, he was serious.

"I—what happened to taking it slow?"

Butters rolled his eyes.

"Suck me then?"

Kenny blinked.

"Fuck yeah, I can do that."

* * *

"Been hanging out with Butters a lot lately."

_Fuck._ Kenny had been hoping that turning up at Kyle's house on a Saturday morning, dopey-ass grin on his face would just go unnoticed. Kenny got laid on a fairly regular basis—it was not odd to see him with a stupid smile on his face, and it was because of this that Kenny didn't bother looking away from the big screen TV on which his character was totally fucking _annihilating_ Stan's. Kyle, meanwhile, was on the floor in front of them, spread out with all his books from his genius classes, and seemed to expect an immediate answer anyway.

"Yeah, so?" Kenny shrugged, mashing his fingers into every button possible. He could feel Kyle shrug from where he sat. The shrug: the key to male communication.

"He's a fucking Melvin," Stan supplied when Kyle was unable to come up with a viable argument.

"He's actually kind of cool," Kenny said.

"How the fuck is he cool, dude?" Stan asked. "I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but… such a tool."

"Dude, don't hate just because you can't make a new friend to save your life," Kenny quipped. "You've been stuck with this fucking nerd since we were crapping our pants. I happen to be a citizen of the world, and thus enjoy expanding my horizons."

Stan paused the game long enough to deliver a swift punch to Kenny's stomach. Even with the wind knocked out of him, Kenny still found it in himself to laugh. Then the front door opened and in strode Cartman, fresh from a weekend debate club meeting. Kyle still held it against him—debate club had been _his_ thing, and then Cartman had to come in and drive him out.

"Ahh, Kenny," said Cartman imperiously as he tossed his bag right on top of Kyle's books and shoved the blonde aside. "How kind of you to keep my controller warm for me. You truly are a brave and decent human being."

"Fucking fatass," Kyle and Kenny muttered simultaneously as Cartman and Stan resumed the game.

"Cartman, what do you think about Kenny spending all this time with Butters?"

"What, that faggot?" Cartman scoffed. "Butters is probably sucking his dick or something 'cause chicks won't do it without diamonds."

"You don't have to buy a girl diamonds to get her to go down on you, fatass!" Kyle snapped.

"Yu-hunh," Cartman snapped. "That's what my mom told me."

"Well, she would know," Kenny muttered. Kyle and Stan laughed.

"Yeah, well I guess all you have to do for faggots like Butters is get 'em a pearl necklace," Cartman shot back.

"Shut the fuck up, fatass!" Kenny shouted. All three of his friends turned and looked at him with the utmost curiosity. Kenny shifted in his seat but made no other sudden movements—if there was one thing you learned when hanging out with these guys, you definitely never broke a poker face if you could help it, and if you did, you denied the fuck out of it. It probably would've been a lot easier to keep cool if he didn't still have the taste of Butters' dick on the back of his tongue.

"Butters is way different now," Kenny decided to explain quite, _quite_ calmly. "And it's not cool to call him a fag, dude. He's got feelings."

"Ha!" Cartman barked. "Pretty soon you'll be sucking his dick right back, fucking fag."

"God, why do you care?" Kenny groaned. "I know you're all fucked up 'cause you never had a dad or whatever, but that doesn't mean you can terrorize the crap out of other people to make them as goddamned miserable as you, you pathetic sack of shit."

Cartman locked eyes with Kenny, seemingly stunned out of a retort. His mouth opened and shut a few times, trying to form around something good to say, but nothing came. He sighed, laid a hand on Kenny's shoulder, and gave a sad, remorseful squeeze.

"Wow, Kenny," he said softly. "You really opened my eyes there. Really changed my perspective on life. Now, tell me, when Butters blows his load all over your face does glitter come _out_ or do you boys add that afterward and just use it as make up for when you go out to the clubs?"

Kenny punched Cartman in the eye. And yeah, that was probably a mistake seeing how Cartman had at least 150 pounds on him _easily_. Kyle had to dive out of the way as Kenny and Cartman threw punch after punch, grappling on the floor until Kenny had the upper hand and Stan was actually able to pull them apart.

"What is wrong with you two?" he shouted.

"He started it," Kenny spat venomously as he moved to touch a tender patch of flesh on his cheek. Cartman had a black eye and a split lip. Win.

"Yeah, and he's not being any more of a dick than usual," Kyle said very plainly. "But we all let him do it, call him a fucking fatass, and move on."

"Yeah, dude," Stan jumped in. "It's, like, the natural order of the universe or whatever." Kenny scowled and wrenched himself out of Stan's grip, but didn't move to launch a second attack. Instead he smoothed out his sweater and pants, adjusted his underwear, which had ridden up his asscrack mid-fight, and pretended that his three best friends weren't staring at him like he had herpes of the face.

Yeah, that wasn't working too well…

"What?" he snapped.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Fine," Kenny said lightly. Kyle quirked an eyebrow.

"You're obviously not," he said in a tone all too similar to his mother's. Stan stared at him with a look of utter concern, with a look of _knowing_. It was really starting to creep Kenny out.

"You know you can tell us anything, right, dude?" he asked. Ugh, it was mom-Stan and… mom-Kyle?

"Shit," Kyle said, "you're not cheesing again, are you?"

Kenny gave what had to have been the biggest eye-roll in recorded history.

"I need a cigarette," he muttered and left out the front door. He stepped off of the Broflovski stoop and walked down the snow-covered sidewalk with no destination in mind, with no intention of returning. Plus, lighting up back there ran the risk of Kyle's mom finding out that he was smoking, and that was the last thing Kenny needed. He took a deep drag and sighed.

Something about the acrid smoke making home in his lungs had always pacified Kenny. Be it from tobacco or pot, Kenny enjoyed smoke in all its carcinogenic glory. The only thing he enjoyed more than a good smoke was sex, and being that he'd just had a bit of that… never let it be said that Kenny didn't enjoy variety in his life.

Fuck, why had Kenny let Cartman get to him like that? That and the play last night… Stan probably knew something was up. God, why the fuck did Kenny care? Why did he care if his friends knew that he was… that he was… fuck, what was he?

Kenny took another drag of his cigarette and sat down on a bench. Christ almighty, this is why Kenny avoided thinking for too long a time… it only led to trouble and self-doubt and Kenny never doubted himself. Most of the time. But the implications of screwing around with Butters, enjoying it (oh, _God_ in heaven did he enjoy the _fuck_ out of what they did), and wanting nothing more than to run right back to that little blonde's room and never leave—

Kenny's phone buzzed in his pocket and immediately he moved to retrieve it. How did his heart _sink_ when Bebe's name popped up on the screen? He flipped open the phone and read the text that popped up on the screen.

_parents r out. cum over? ;)_

Kenny flicked his cigarette butt into a pile of snow in front of him and typed a hasty response. Yes, Bebe's offer would be a spectacular distraction from this… whatever this was. He pulled his hood over his head and made his way over to Bebe's side of town, already eager to forget every Buttery thought that'd ever crossed his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't have an update schedule, but it feels like this is late. I also don't really plot my stories before I write them (any of you who watch Glee are familiar with this tactic whether you know it or not), so your guess is as good as mine as to what the hell is going to happen. I also am in the bad habit of skim-correcting, so I'm just going to stop making excuses and give you story. Sweet, glorious story.

**Warning**: ****

**Extreme fluff ahead. From here on out you are responsible for what you've gotten yourselves into.**

* * *

Butters didn't care. Yup, Butters was so far from caring that Bebe and Kenny were still hooking up that he totally… totally encouraged it. in his head. where no one could hear it.

See, Kenny didn't know that he knew, because Bebe didn't know that Butters and Kenny had been doing… what they'd been doing, so she didn't know to keep her big mouth shut about the whole thing. Butters was pretty sure there was some apocryphal Shakespearean play with a plot similar, if not identical, to this. And he figured that, since he knew, he should probably tell Kenny so they could talk about it—something that Wendy would undoubtedly encourage if she'd at all approved of Kenny.

But that was the thing. Kenny didn't ever seem at all remorseful or guilty when Butters saw him. Call him crazy (and many had), but if Kenny wasn't being up front about it, and if he wasn't showing any signs of it… didn't that count as cheating?

Maybe Butters was overanalyzing things again. His horoscope had warned him against doing that this month.

Not that Butters read his horoscope. Sometimes Bebe and Wendy read it for him out of their Cosmo magazines. Sometimes, Butters listened.

Man, Butters should've known he wouldn't be enough to hold anyone's interest for very long, least of all Kenny McCormick's.

"Sweetie, are you all right?"

Butters snapped his attention away from the wall and over to his mother, who was knitting something or other on the other side of the couch. She was watching Say Yes to the Dress, and damn it all if Butters wasn't a sucker for that show.

"Y-yeah, mom," Butters replied softly and drew his knees into his chest. His mom nodded and turned back to the screen.

"So gorgeous," she sighed wistfully. "I can't wait until you meet the woman you're going to marry. I know it's a long way off, and who knows what kinds of dresses they'll have then, but I've always imagined the girl you'll marry in a mermaid gown. Is that weird?"

Being that Butters hadn't imagined himself marrying a girl in nearly eight years, he felt obligated to reply 'no'. The thing was that he still imagined himself getting married, which only served to frustrate him when he thought about it. Sometimes he wished girls were more appealing, that he'd be able to settle down with one eventually and marry and have kids and never have to—

Fuck, he was turning into his father. He looked over at his mom, her hair graying as she knitted happily, and knew he couldn't do that to anyone—not a potential wife and definitely not to her, because as crazy as she was, Butters did really love her.

He scooted over on the couch and wrapped his arms around her. As if his hug could apologize for what his father had did to her, as if his hug could give her back the life she'd wasted on a man she thought she'd loved, on a man she thought had loved her back.

"Honey, are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine," Butters hummed, pecked his mother on the cheek, and bounded upstairs. He wasn't going to turn into his father, that was for sure, but what would be worse would be turning into his mother. He would either find out if Kenny had feelings for him, or he would… Christ, would he really go so far as to make someone have feelings for him?

Ha. Of course he would. Now for the tough part: how to seduce a seducer. Butters smiled—maybe it would turn into his first novel. Or a movie. Oh, a movie would be just fine, but first he had to actually do the work, and the work started with inviting Kenny out for some pizza.

* * *

"So, is this a date?"

Butters shrugged as he bit into a slice of greasy, cheesy heaven. Okay, so maybe this step had been less about seducing Kenny and more about the pizza, but… damn it, Butters loved pizza.

"Not exactly m-my idea of romance," Butters finally said. "But we can make it work if we need to."

Kenny smiled and kept at devouring his pizza.

"See," he mumbled through his food and swallowed, "this is nice. I don't have to worry about you getting all pissy about me eating like a normal human being. I don't know if Wendy and Bebe do this to you, but every time I go out with girls they always make me feel like shit for the way I eat. Not my fault I fucking eat, you know?"

"Yeah, well, they l-let you cop a feel afterward, don't they? That's g-gotta be worth something."

Kenny's smile turned mischievous. "Think your ass is up for a thorough grope after this, Stotch?" he asked as he bounced his eyebrows up and down on his forehead.

"About as ready as yours is, I'm gonna guess." Shit, he hadn't meant to say that.

"Good," Kenny concluded and shoved the rest of his pizza in his mouth. Not a fantastic idea being that he obviously hadn't been finished with whatever he'd been saying.

"Maybe you should finish eating," Butters interrupted Kenny's mumbling. Kenny rolled his eyes and swallowed.

"I said, 'finish your pizza and let's go de-virginize your car."

Butters practically swallowed the remaining food whole, much to the displeasure of his stomach, and followed Kenny out of the parlor and into the cold.

"Where do you want to go?" Butters asked as he moved to unlock his drivers' side door. Kenny just opened up the back seat and slid in, bidding Butters to follow. Butters sighed and slid into the back, already uncomfortable.

"Kenny, we're too big to fool around back here."

"We'll be fine if you don't thrash around," Kenny said, voice low and husky. It almost sounded like the Mysterion voice, even though _that _had been out of commission since long before any of them had reached puberty.

Wait, _fuck_, wasn't Butters supposed to be doing something? Yeah, he'd asked Kenny out for a reason—Damn, Butters couldn't think with a hand down his pants and lips on his neck.

"Hey, Butters?"

He could only muster a weak moan in response.

"Do you have lube in here?"

Butters opened his eyes and shot Kenny a look that asked if Butters really looked like the type of guy who kept lube in his car. Kenny rolled his eyes and sped up the ministrations of his hand. Butters would've thought that after doing this about a dozen times he'd have gotten used to it, but Kenny was really good at remembering what sent Butters into throes of absolute ecstasy and before he could worry about the impending mess that would undoubtedly end up all over his jeans and shirt, Kenny closed his mouth over him and yeah, it was all over. Butters was thrusting upward with reckless abandon—wow, Kenny had been right about the thrashing—so much so that it shouldn't have been any surprise that he'd sent the car rocking back and forth.

"Jesus," Kenny laughed. "You're gonna get us arrested for public indecency if you're not careful."

"Yo-you're the one who di—_Christ_—who didn't wa-want to leave the pa-parking lot," Butters pointed out. Kenny grinned.

"Maybe," he replied, "but I did warn you to lay off your thrashing."

"Yeah?" Butters asked and sat up. Fuck whatever plans he'd had right to hell—they could wait until he was done ravishing the boy before him. He pulled Kenny into a kiss, head swimming post-orgasmic bliss, and started working at the button on Kenny's pants.

More than anything, Butters loved how he reduced Kenny to little more than putty in his hands. He'd expected Kenny to be one of those aggressive-types in the sex game, and according to Bebe he was, but there wasn't as much resistance as he'd expected from someone who until very recently believed himself to be entirely heterosexual.

"Want me to suck you?"

"Oh, my god, why are you asking?" Kenny whined. Butters smiled.

"'C-cause you're kinda c-cute when you're desperate."

Kenny rolled his eyes and mashed their lips together.

"Shut the fuck up and blow me, dude."

Butters couldn't have been happier to comply.

* * *

Christmas Eve at the Stotch house often included nothing more than a nice turkey dinner, some scripture reading (an insistence of Mrs. Stotch, who insisted that they remember the reason for the season), and sugar cookies (an insistence of Butters, who really just liked making cookies). Christmas Eve at the McCormick household, as Butters had found out, consisted of little more than a 'Merry Christmas Eve' and a few more drunken arguments than usual.

"Do you want to spend Christmas Eve with us?"

Kenny looked over from his sketchbook, wide-eyed and looking generally confused. Butters couldn't help his smile. They were on Kenny's bed, his parents having passed out hours before, too inept to care that their youngest son was huddled up beside another boy.

"Doesn't your family have, like, traditions or whatever?" Kenny asked.

Butters shrugged.

"My mom probably wouldn't mind having you there," he said and ran his fingers through the dirty blonde hair so close and so accessible. "And, you know, my parents wo-wouldn't really break into an argument w-with a guest in the house, so… I wo-wouldn't mind it either."

Kenny gave a small smile and pecked Butters on the cheek.

"Best we both stick to what we've got," he said softly. "But I'll keep it in mind."

Which is why Butters wasn't entirely surprised when he had a stoopful of Kenny McCormick, looking a little more haggard than usual, around noon on Christmas Eve.

"Jeeze, Ken, w-what happened to your eye?"

Kenny shrugged, as though a black eye was nothing out of the ordinary. Butters felt his stomach bottom out as he realized that, for Kenny, it probably wasn't.

"Merry Christmas," he said softly, with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster. Butters rolled his eyes and dragged the taller boy inside and into the light.

"Wow…" Butters breathed. "Who did that to you?"

"I'd kind of rather not talk about it," Kenny said, as though the words hurt even passing his lips. Butters gave a sympathetic nod and reached up to brush Kenny's hairline, remembered that his parents were in the house, and instead gave one of those broad shoulders a friendly clap. That's what straight guys did, right?

"You banged up anywhere else?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," Kenny shook his head. Butters nodded and bade him follow into the rather aromatic kitchen. Mrs. Stotch looked up with warm regard at her son only to follow with mild confusion at the sight of the boy beside him.

"Kenny, what are you doing all the way over here on Christmas Eve?"

"Kenny was going to jo-join us f-for dinner," Butters interjected nervously before Kenny could force another uncomfortable response. "S-sorry I di-didn't tell you earlier." Mrs. Stotch nodded and looked at Kenny with that kind of 'we'll make it work' smiles.

"We'd be happy to have you—we have plenty of food, so don't you worry."

Sometimes Butters wondered if his mother intended on humiliating people when they spoke or if she was really that absent from life. Either way, Butters excused the both of them and pulled Kenny up the stairs and into the bathroom.

"Take off your jacket," he said, "I wanna see if you got anything else other than that shiner."

Kenny gave only a moment's hesitation before pulling off his parka and baring his arms for Butters to inspect.

"Are those scratches on your neck?" Butters asked in mild horror. Kenny clapped his hand over the marks, more out of curiosity than shame.

"I guess so," he concluded. "Must've happened when my mom grabbed my shirt."

"Crimeny, Ken," Butters said as he reached into the medicine cabinet for some bactine. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Since I was a kid, yeah," Kenny replied with a hollow laugh. "They've laid off for the most part, but, what can I say? My parents are assholes who shouldn't have had kids."

Butters threw a cotton ball at Kenny's face.

"I'm kinda glad they had you," he said softly, firmly as he began to clean the wounds on Kenny's neck.

"Are you?" the older boy asked, skepticism abound.

"Yeah, believe it or not," Butters tossed the soiled cotton ball in the trashcan and pushed his lips against Kenny's in a soft, tender sort of kiss. "Just because some people are assholes doesn't mean they shouldn't have had a pretty great kid."

Kenny's eyes filled up with something unfamiliar, something Butters hadn't seen in them before, and the smaller boy tried to pretend he didn't anticipate the fervent kiss that followed. When Kenny's hands travelled southward, Butters pulled away.

"Now, I invited you over for Christmas, not some hedonistic pagan sex ritual," he admonished.

"We gon' git some religion up in hurr?" Kenny mocked. Butters rolled his eyes.

"If you're lucky, God may overlook that."

Butters knew Kenny wanted to say something, possibly get into an argument about this whole 'God' business, but Butters ran an affectionate hand through the messy hair before him and gave a smile, which Kenny returned in full.

"Hey, Leopold?"

Butters felt a shiver run up his spine at the use of his given name, though whether it was out of sheer disdain for the discordant name or out of pleasure at the intimacy of the whole thing, he was a little unsure.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad your parents had you too. I know the situation is way different, but… you turned out all right. I think we both did."

Butters nodded and pecked Kenny on the lips.

"Me too."

* * *

As Butters found out later, eating at the Stotch house was, in Kenny's mind, a little like eating at Kyle's house—the amount of food was the same, but where Mrs. Broflovski felt genuine remorse for Kenny's situation and took it upon herself to be a secondary mother, Mrs. Stotch's affections felt hollow, like if she didn't keep shoveling food onto Kenny's plate she would have to engage him in conversation. Mr. Stotch just regarded Kenny warily, mind undoubtedly riddled with images of Kenny's father projected onto Kenny's unwitting face.

"Passive-aggression is genetic, I'm afraid," Butters sighed. He and Kenny were downstairs, long after his parents had gone to bed, still decorating sugar cookies while they watched Meet Me in St. Louis (Butters insisted, much to Kenny's dismay).

"Maybe it skips a generation," Kenny offered. "I don't think there's an aggressive bone in your body… at least, not one that's—"

"All right, all right!" Butters admonished. "It's a holy day, have some respect."

"Respect?" Kenny repeated, his eyes big and fake in their innocence. "What's that?"

"Not talking about sex on Christmas," Butters explained with a smile on his face. It was very difficult to be serious with Kenny leaning over ever-so interestedly and batting his eyes like an ignorant schoolgirl. Butters looked down at the cookies before Kenny and rolled his eyes. "For Pete's sake, stop using the cinnamon drops to put boobs on your gingerbread men."

"Gingerbread _women_," Kenny corrected and went back to the cookie, making a few alterations. "And now it's a gingerbread hermaphrodite."

"Any indication of your next sexual hurdle?" Butters asked flatly. Kenny gave a wistful sigh.

"One can dream, can't he?"

Butters rolled his eyes and licked a bit of icing off of his finger. Of course Kenny would—why wouldn't he? He was Kenny-fucking-McCormick, for crying out loud.

"Hey," Kenny's voice broke through Butters' thoughts. He was mere inches away from Butters' face, a dreamy sort of smile on his face that usually meant that he was stoned out of his skull. Being that they'd been together nearly all day, Butters knew that this was not the case.

"W-what do you want, per-pervert?"

"You don't have the frame to support tits," Kenny observed. "You'd probably tip over if you had anything bigger than a-cups."

"I-is there a poi-point to a-any of this?" Butters nearly whined.

"Call it my round-about way of saying I like you the way you are," Kenny smiled and pressed a kiss to Butters' cheek.

"Oh?" Butters asked lightly. "Be-between Be-bebe and your herma-a herma-a_-goddamn it_."

"Whoa, calm down," Kenny said softly and brought a hand up to massage the back of Butters' neck. Instantly, Butters felt a wave of calm wash over him. Stupid Kenny.

"Look," Kenny began, "if you're worried, you really shouldn't be. I'm fine with you being a boy. In fact, I kinda like it, in case you haven't noticed."

Butters huffed and rolled his eyes, not willing to give in so easily. In turn, Kenny hung his head.

"How'd you know about Bebe?"

"Like Bebe would keep quiet about fu-fucking you," Butters muttered. "Love her and all, but she's got a real big mouth."

"I'll say—Okay, I'm sorry! Wrong thing to say, I get it. Christ, Butters, I'm not really all that good at this."

"I know," Butters admitted softly. "I'm not too great at it either."

"Wanna be romantically mediocre together?" Kenny asked with a hint of smile. Butters looked up, trigger word setting off alarms in his brain.

"Romantic?" he asked. "Isn't this all supposed to be sexual experimenting and whatnot?" Kenny shrugged.

"I mean, yeah," he admitted, "but being that I really like you, and I like fooling around with you, why shouldn't we be, like, romantic or whatever?"

"You want to be mo-more romantic?" Butters queried, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

"If you want, yeah," Kenny replied.

"There's your answer," Butters said. "I don't need this to be a romantic type thing, and I know you don't. I-I'm all right with being friends-with-benefits or whatever they call it. I don't want you to stop sleeping wi-with other people or anything."

"Liar," Kenny accused mildly, and then his eyes grew big. "Or maybe you _do_ want romance and you're just afraid that I'm being romantic with other people I fuck. Believe me, Butters, romance is the last thing—"

"I know that," Butters interjected. "I'm friends with Bebe, remember? And she's, like, in love with you or something but you don't love her back, and I don't want her to get hurt by either of us."

"But I don't think of Bebe like that," Kenny frowned. "Not that I don't like her, but she…" Kenny trickled off. Butters cocked his head, now at full interest.

"What?"

"It's dumb."

"I'm sure it's not, Ken."

"Bebe… she's great—smart, funny, and isn't she, like going to be a doctor or something? But she's not… she doesn't make me feel like you. make me feel, I mean."

"And how do I make you feel?" Butters asked, his throat suddenly very dry. Kenny shrugged.

"Awesome, I guess."

Butters smiled, a warm, fuzzy feeling stirring up in his gut as Kenny leaned into a chaste kiss. He supposed he probably didn't need to force Kenny into having feelings for him, so… there was one thing he could cross off of his to-do list. He smiled into the kiss—Kenny had feelings for him. He had—oh no. Warm fuzzies meant that he had feelings for Kenny too. _Shit_.

"Kenny, hang on just a sec," Butters broke away from their lip-lock, much to the confusion of Kenny. He put enough space between them so that they could have a decent conversation free of [almost] any physical distraction.

"Kenny, I'm going to college soon," Butters explained. "I mean, not soon-soon, but soon enough. We'd have to break up, and then you'd resent me, and then—"

"Holy shit, dude," Kenny rolled his eyes. "Someone has to have told you that you think _way_ too much. Seriously? I'm not even talking, like, relationship, okay? Yeah, I'm probably still going to want to fuck girls, and yeah, if you see other guys, you should go for it. I'm just saying that you make me feel better than anyone else ever has, so you really shouldn't worry about me, like, abandoning you or whatever. Like, I'll sleep with other people, but… you're special."

"That's called an open relationship, Kenny," Butters replied flatly.

"Fine!" Kenny threw up his hands in defeat. "Want one of those?"

Butters raised his eyebrows.

"Are you really proposing like this?"

"Oh, my God," Kenny sighed, "I'm sorry I don't have a ring and flowers. I really like you and I want to make something work. Why are you complicating it?"

"Because it's what we're doing already anyway!" Butters snapped.

_Oh, shit. _

That's what they were doing already anyway.

"Kenny."

"Yeah, Butters?"

"We-we've been in an open relationship for the last few months, ha-haven't we?"

"I think so, yeah."

A pause as Kenny tentatively scooted closer to Butters, eyes earnest and movements sincere. Butters tried to stomp out the fuzzies in his belly when Kenny took his hand in his.

"So," Kenny began, "what's the harm in actually acknowledging it?"

"People'll find out," Butters replied softly. "I mean, I can take the name-calling and everything, but it'd get back to my parents… and what about you? Yo-you're not even out yet and people can be really awful about this kinda thing."

"Fuck them," Kenny shrugged. "It's our business and not theirs. If we want to tell people, then we can tell people. No one has to know."

Butters paused for a moment, as if considering, and then shrugged.

"Well, if we-we're not Facebook official then I-I really don't see the point."

Kenny gave a small smile and playfully shoved at the smaller boy's shoulder before returning to decorate his cookies, Butters' hand still clasped tightly in his as Judy Garland danced happily on the flickering screen before them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Don't drink, kids-**it makes you write large blocks of fanfiction and cook up predictable teenage conflict.

As always, all errors are mine. Well, not all errors. Just the ones I make. Your errors are your errors and don't you dare try to pin them on me.

**EDIT: **Wow. Woke up this morning and realized that none of my edits from last night saved. That's... that's why I shouldn't edit things at two in the morning. Sorry about that. Hopefully it's all fixed now.

* * *

The weirdest thing about Bebe's parents, Butters thought, was that they were willing to pretend that they had somewhere else to go with the intention of 'letting' Bebe throw a New Year's Eve party. What adult in their right mind would let their seventeen-year-old daughter throw a party on New Year's? Strike that—Wendy's parents would have, but only because they knew Wendy wouldn't have any rabble-rousing or tomfoolery of any kind.

"How does this one look?"

Wendy and Butters were over early, as usual, to help her choose something befitting a hostess. From the looks of the dresses she'd been trying on, she was going for something closer to Lady of the Night than respectable WASP.

"Bebe, that dress is too tight; it doesn't fit you."

Wendy was insistent that Bebe look somewhat respectable; Butters was just plain anxious. Kenny would be at the party and Bebe would be hell-bent on getting his attention. It was a situation that just didn't bode well for Butters and his poor Virgo sensibilities—_fuck_. Quickly, Butters shut the issue of Cosmo he'd until recently been reading and tossed it on the floor.

"Oh, Bebe," he began upon seeing the latest dress, "Bebe, you look kinda like a hooker in all red."

"Thanks, Butters," Bebe raised an eyebrow, "way to wear the same turquoise turtleneck you've been wearing since we were six."

"It's a jacket and I've got something under it!" Butters jumped to defend his wardrobe. "I didn't want to wear my dress and outshine you."

Wendy gave a laugh as she rifled through Bebe's closet for something less street-corner chic and didn't seem to be having much luck.

"What about a nice top and black pants?"

"What's the point in not wearing underwear if you're just going to wear pants?"

"Classy," Butters snorted. Wendy wasn't as amused.

"What is wrong with you, woman?" she cried. "You're so obsessed with seducing Kenny that you're turning into a-a—"

"Skank?" Butters offered. Oh, anything to throw Bebe off the Kenny trail.

"What?" Bebe shrieked. Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Honey, it's true," she confirmed. "You want him so badly, and for what? What makes Kenny so appealing?"

A question seemingly directed at the both of them, though Butters knew he'd be signing his death warrant if he dared answer. Bebe sighed.

"Look," she began, "I know there'll be plenty more guys and all, but it's not like I'm doing worse in school or anything. Just let me have tonight and I promise I'll lay off."

"Ugh, if you're horny then go after Token or something!" Wendy exclaimed. "At least he's in your echelon of intelligence."

"Ten points to Ravenclaw for excellent word usage," Butters chimed in.

"Well, it's true," Wendy said, addressing Butters now. "People need to learn to date people whose personalities suit them, and to let stupid lustful crushes stay just that—_crushes_."

"Hi, pot, I'm the kettle—awful nice to meet you."

"What? That's—no! Fuck you guys!"

"Yeah," Bebe crossed her arms, "you're the one who was dating Stan forever even though you two _kept_ breaking up. It took you until last month to stop wanting to get back together with him!"

"Stan was different," Wendy snapped.

"Yeah, 'cause you started dating when we were, like, eight!"

"That's not fair!"

Holy crap. Had Butters just inadvertently started a fight? Yeah, he'd been the subject of fights between his parents, and he'd been dragged into fights a few times, but he'd never accidentally started one. He stood up and moved to get between them, but both girls glared at him. To her credit, Wendy had kept pretty tight-lipped about Butters' whole Kenny thing. Yeah, she didn't know the details, but she didn't need to… especially since she was liable to yell at Butters if she did.

"You shouldn't be fighting over something this stupid," he said.

"What?" they shouted in unison. Wrong thing to say, Butters noted.

"W-well, it has no-nothing to do wi-with your friendship, does it?"

"If she's valuing some high school fuckfest over her identity, then yeah, it has to do with our friendship, _Leopold_."

Suddenly Butters knew why he hated when people called him by his first name. Even if it sounded sexy when Kenny said it, even if it was endearing when his grandma did it, Wendy just tarnished the whole word.

"She's seventeen!" Butters jumped to defend Bebe. Wasn't he supposed to be throwing her off of Kenny? "We're just kids, Wendy; we don't _have_ identities to tarnish yet!"

"Oh, my God, of course we do!" Wendy cried. "She's so smart and she's letting herself turn—"

"People can be smart _and_ sexy, Wendy," Bebe pointed out. "They're called 'successful'."

"No," Wendy shook her head and moved to grab her bag. "No, we're not doing this. I'm leaving. I love you both—Butters, have a great time tonight, and Bebe? You call me when you stop acting like a self-centered… person."

And with that Wendy was gone. Bebe absolutely _fumed_, ranted and raved about judgmental, sexually-repressed people and their lack of understanding. Butters gave a nervous laugh and decided that agreeing with everything she said was probably much safer than trying to talk her out of her feelings. Girls weren't too keen on sensible solutions to things like that.

"You like Kenny, right?" Bebe asked as she adjusted her boobs, now sheathed in a purple dress. Butters repressed his desire to sputter like a total dork and just nodded, adding, in his head, that Bebe couldn't possibly fathom how much he liked him.

"What's up her ass, seriously?"

"Don't know," Butters shrugged. "She just doesn't appreciate the feelings that you have."

"Right?"

Right. Butters could talk to women—he watched TLC, he read Cosmo, he… had a mom. He just told Bebe that she looked fantastic, that her boobs looked fantastic in that dress, and sent a text Kenny's way, begging him to save him from the hell that was woman.

_Hey_, came the reply, _at least you don't like fucking them._

_

* * *

_

To be honest, Butters actually kind of hated parties. Still, he went to them... he supposed it was probably just residual people-pleasing that he hadn't done away with yet.

And he really needed to make sure Bebe and Kenny didn't get too carried away with anything.

Not that Butters cared about Kenny sleeping with girls—because he totally didn't—but with Bebe? That was different. She was Butters' friend and Kenny was setting her up for some major heartbreak, whether he realized it or not. He'd gotten through high school with so little drama—don't let's make up for three and a half years in six months.

"Anyone ever told you you look like a retarded retriever when you space out?"

Butters snapped back into reality and tried to hold back a goofy smile when he realized that Kenny was standing beside him.

"I'll take that as the compliment I-I'm sure you intended," he said.

"You do that," Kenny said. "I'll be over here pretending I don't want to fuck the shit out of you."

"Classy." Huh, maybe he and Bebe _were _good for each other.

"So," Kenny began, "where's Frauline Wendy?"

"Great, Cartman's teaching you German," Butters sighed. "Wendy and Bebe got into a fight a while before everyone got here. Wendy left and I spent a solid hour trying to make Bebe feel better."

"What'd they fight about?" Kenny asked and took a sip of his beer. Butters looked at Kenny out of the corner of his eye, honestly concerned but entirely prepared for Butters to keep the answer from him. Guarded. Butters couldn't help the urge to kiss the caution right off his face, but then he remembered.

"They fought about you, if you really wanna know," he said. "And Stan, kinda. Actually, I may have started it on accident."

"They don't both want me, do they?"

"Must be nice to be so vain," Butters snorted. "No, they don't both want you. Bebe and I both want you, I have you, Bebe and Wendy don't know that I have you, Wendy wants Stan, Stan wants… Kyle?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Well, you've read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_—"

"I have?"

"Yeah, in the seventh grade, Kenny."

"Oh, right."

"Anyway, you know everything turns out okay in the end, so maybe this will?" Butters shrugged. "You just… you need to tell Bebe that you don't have feelings for her. Otherwise she's just gonna end up getting hurt and only sleeping with men who devalue her."

"How's AP Psych going there, Butters?"

Butters rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall behind him.

"You have to tell her," he said as Kenny started chugging the rest of his beer. Butters sighed, wondered if he'd gotten himself into too much yet again, and ran a hand through his hair. Yeah, haircut was definitely neede—not the point. Okay.

"Butters, I'm not good at talking to people about that kind of stuff," Kenny said and looked at his empty bottle in disdain. "I'm gonna get another. You want anything?"  
"No, I'm fine," Butters mumbled, wishing more than anything that Kenny would kiss him. He'd grown way too accustomed to it—laying in bed and kissing, stretched out on the floor doing homework and kissing, even when Butters's parents were fighting, Kenny would pull Butters in close to his chest and kiss the top of his head. Even when Kenny's sister was shouting at their mom, Butters would cup his hands over Kenny's ears and pull him into a kiss. Butters wanted a kiss now, because a kiss meant that Kenny would talk to Bebe, that he wasn't upset, that—that—

"Honey, were you talking to Kenny for me?"

Butters jumped and turned to see Bebe beaming at him. He gulped and quickly set his mind on finishing the rest of his beer, now wishing he'd asked Kenny for another.

"You're just the sweetest," Bebe said, sugary and already thick with alcohol and, when paired with teenage lust, yeah, that was bad. "But honey, you don't have to talk to him. I've got my own persuasive wiles."

"I… I know you do," Butters gave an uneasy smile. "I'm gonna get another beer. You want some water or something?"

"No, I'm good—I've got liquor."

Butters snorted and made his way through the throng of his drunken classmates, hopefully moving toward finding more beer. He supposed that finding a game of beer pong was just as good, but being that he wasn't on any sort of team he couldn't drink any of their supply. He did see, however, that Kyle and Stan were doing a bang-up job of beating Clyde and Token into the ground. Butters wondered vaguely through the haze of his buzz if Kyle and Stan had ever kissed, if they ever would.

He looked over toward the kitchen and saw that Kenny had gotten distracted by a very tipsy Heidi. What was he—oh. Oh, God. He was in Bebe's line of sight. That couldn't have been his way of telling her to fuck off. Butters refused to believe that Kenny was that. fucking. _stupid_. He cast a look over at Bebe, who seemed to greet the situation as a challenge.

Butters whined to himself—trust Bebe to take a hint and turn it into a competition. This was going to be a long fucking night.

* * *

At about ten minutes 'til midnight, Butters could be found in Bebe's room, curled up on her bed and wanting the room to stop spinning. He'd found more beer, and the alcohol had found his blood to be a perfect home for the next few hours. He was closer to vomiting than he'd wanted to admit, so Bebe had walked him up to her room, shut off the lights, and left him to recover. That had been nearly an hour ago.

"There you are."

Butters hissed at the crack of light that illuminated the room. He hissed—why would he hiss? Alcohol was so weird.

"I've been looking for you everywhere."

Kenny's voice (because Butters would recognize that voice anywhere) was like a welcome choir of angels soothing his discomfort. He felt those roughened fingers brush at his hairline and he couldn't help it anymore—he had to kiss those impossibly kissable lips.

"Not midnight yet," Kenny jested softly. "You're normally so good about holding your liquor, baby."

"You are no-not allowed to call me 'baby'," Butters said firmly.

"No fun nicknames, no terms of endearment… I'm just supposed to call you 'Butters' forever?"

"Everyone else does."

"I'm not everyone else, though," Kenny said warmly.

"Fine," Butters conceded. "Since you're the guy I'm fucking you can refer to me as either 'Oh-God-Yes' or 'Harder-Harder'. Pick."

"I forget how funny you get when you're drunk," Kenny laughed. Butters kissed him again, tasting hard liquor on that ridiculously supple tongue.

"Fun fact: I also get irrepressibly horny."

"When you drink?"

"In… in general."

Kenny laughed as Butters slid off the bed and onto his lap, silenced only by the tongue down his throat and the hands at the base of his jaw. Butters brain was gone—the only thing that mattered was how incredible Kenny's mouth felt on his, how fucking fantastic it would be to fuck right then, right there.

Butters just settled for the massive hickey that Kenny was so artfully crafting at the base of his neck, making sure to thrust every once in a while. The more turned on he got, the harder he sucked. Little trick of the trade.

"Hey, Butters, are you—Oh, my _God_!"

Butters and Kenny flew apart in what had to have been record time given the amount of alcohol that factored into the equation. Bebe was at the door with her arm flung over her eyes. Butters scrambled to his feet to explain—or, at least, attempted to do so and only ended up falling flat on his face before she left.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

"Love it when you swear."

Butters felt a little more sober than he had before. Maybe that was just what heart-pounding horror did to one inebriated.

"This is why I told you to talk to her!" Butters whined. "Now I gotta—now we gotta—"

"Does it ever occur to you that you don't have to do anything?" Kenny asked.

"No, because I know how to take responsibility for my actions," Butters snapped. "I was trying to make it easier to deal with but now you went a-and messed it up."

"Please just make this the perfect night and call me a fuck-up," Kenny sighed.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't fuck up!" Butters shouted and stood wobbly on his feet. Why was it so difficult for people to just listen to him? He had good ideas, _honestly_. People just didn't trust him for some reason.

Then he remembered the last five minutes and knew why.

He darted out the door and went on a mad search for Bebe anywhere and everywhere he thought she could be. As it turned out she was downstairs talking to Token. He looked to be comforting her, which was probably a good thing because if she was left to fume for too long the consequences could have been dire. Butters stood there and watched, watched Bebe go from melancholy to okay to down-right cheered-up in five minutes flat. And when it was time, he watched her play the ever-gracious hostess and lead the countdown. At midnight he watched her kiss Token like there was nothing about it. She was still upset, because Bebe didn't forget _that_ easily, but she wasn't letting it ruin her night. When all was said and done, Bebe was that 'pick yourself up, dust yourself off' kinda gal.

"I'm not a fuck-up," came the gentle admission from behind him. Butters nodded and reached back to grab one of Kenny's roughened hands in his.

"I know that," he said.

"Please don't call me a fuck-up."

Butters turned around. Kenny was standing, shoulders slouched and head low. He wasn't a melancholy drunk by any means, but it had been right awful of Butters to call him that, justified as he felt he was. He cupped Kenny's cheeks in his hands and brought their lips together in a chaste kiss.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Kenny nodded, assumedly in acceptance of the apology, and pulled Butters into another kiss. Just when everything seemed to be turning out all right, Butters had to go and fuck it up. A lot of things had changed since he was a kid, but that certainly never did.

Butters shook his head and concentrated on pulling Kenny into the spare room that was blessedly unoccupied. They collapsed on the bed, trading lazy kisses and unwilling to look at what the day ahead had in store. Jeeze, if this was any sort of precursor for the year ahead… Butters let it go as soon as Kenny pulled him close, because Butters could feel Kenny's heart beating against his just then and it was one of those sort of incredible things that Butters couldn't have ever imagined feeling so great but, Jesus Christ, it did.

Now if this moment could just last until the rest of the shit hit and cleared the fan, that would be fantastic.

* * *

At some point between twelve-fifteen and ten o'clock, Butters and Kenny had fallen asleep. Vaguely, Butters recalled Stan and Kyle finding them and demanding they make room for them on the bed, which explained the rather strange bedfellows he'd discovered upon waking. Kenny, it seemed, had switched spots with Butters then, opting to take the edge of the bed so that Butters wouldn't fall off.

Butters was going to take a moment to gather his bearings but a sharp pain shot through his head as soon as he'd cracked an eye open, preventing him from doing so. Kenny's hand was on his chest—it had to have been Kenny's because Stan's hand couldn't have rested on his chest like that unless it had been severed from its arm—his leg tangled around Butters' like he'd fallen asleep making sure that Butters couldn't move without him knowing about it.

Butters was starting to suspect that Kenny had a few abandonment issues that they were probably most likely inevitably going to have to face without a doubt maybe at some point. Ugh, Butters didn't care—he just needed some Tylenol or advil or more liquor or something to take the edge off this headache.

Stan groaned beside him, and Butters figured it'd probably be best to look over and make sure the darker boy wasn't on the verge of a freak out. Nope, he just sighed contentedly and rolled over to cuddle into Kyle's body heat. Oh, Butters was insanely uncomfortable now.

Very subtly he attempted to move, but Kenny's grip tightened on him. He rolled his eyes and tried to move again, but resistance appeared to be futile; he would have to wait for Kenny to wake up before he could move. He sighed and turned in toward the body holding him hostage. Kenny pulled him in closer.

"Hey, Ken," Butters whispered against his ear. "Kenny, I gotta pee."

Kenny muttered a quick something about being totally into watersports before relinquishing his grip and allowing Butters to move freely about the room. He sat up and stretched, muscles heavy with residual alcohol poisoning, his tongue dry and head pounding from dehydration. He climbed over Kenny and padded around the spare few bodies (Clyde and Craig, if Butters was correct in his identification skills), all in hopes that he'd be able to get down to the kitchen for a glass of water without any problems.

No such luck.

Bebe was in the kitchen, opening a few packs of muffins for the people who'd slept over. Butters' stomach gave a nauseating thrust at the thought of food, so he moved cautiously to get a glass of water. Bebe was ignoring him. Great.

"Bebe—"

"Don't talk to me," she said shortly. Butters sighed and sipped at the water he'd poured for himself. She wouldn't even turn around to look at him.

"Bebe, I-I'm sorry."

"What part of 'don't talk to me' don't you understand?" she snapped.

"I-It kind of just happened! I-I never wanted to-to hurt—"

"Well, you did," she snapped and whirled around. "Intended or not, it was still a shitty thing to do. Now get the fuck out of my sight before I stab you with the so aptly-named butter knife."

Butters finished his water, set the glass on the counter, and went back to the guest room. Kenny had long since occupied his space, and Butters figured it was just as well. He grabbed his car keys from Bebe's room, made sure his wallet and cell phone were still in his pocket, and popped back into the room where Kenny was still sleeping. He gave him a gentle kiss awake—ignoring the morning breath, because that was really the only way to get through it—and reveled in the comfy smile he received.

"Bebe's re-really pissed at me," he said softly. "You'll probably get off with a gentle wa-warning, but she'll drag me through hell and back before she forgives me, so I-I'd better go."

Kenny nodded and gave him a quick kiss.

"Bye, baby," he whispered and rolled over to curl into Stan's warmth. Butters rolled his eyes and made his way out of the house.

"Bye, Bebe," he called.

"Fuck you."

While Butters was driving home, his phone started to ring. Carefully, he fished it out of his pocket and looked at the display. _Wendy Testaburger_. Oh, here we go. Butters pushed the speaker phone button and set the phone on his lap.

"Hello?"

"At her party, Butters?" came the furious screech. Butters' ears started pounding. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Now, hang on just a minute—"

"No!" Wendy snapped. "You are by far the shittiest friend ever to have existed."

"Can you just ignore me like Bebe's doing?" Butters whined. "Honestly, Wendy, I'm hung over as all hell. I just wanna go home and recover."

"No! This is God punishing you for being a bad person!"

"Wendy, I already know I'm a bad person," Butters said. "Can't you just leave me to wallow in my own guilt? I promise I feel enough."

"You'll never feel enough," Wendy said, livid. "After that amount of betrayal, of anguish that you're putting her through—"

"It's not occurring to either of you that I'm genuinely sorry? I like being friends with you girls, I—"

"Well, too bad! Just go hang out with Kenny McCormick since he's so fucking special, and when he turns out to be the asshole that he is, don't come crying back to us!"

"Wendy, did you remember to take a Midol before you called me?" Mean, but an effective means of ending the conversation. At least if she hung up on him, there was less of a chance of call-back. He tossed the phone into the passenger's seat and drove home in silence, refusing to fume about or dwell upon anything that had just happened. When he pulled into his driveway he turned off the car and rested his head against the steering wheel. _Always remember that things can be worse. _

"Butters, just where have you been all night, young man?"

Butters smacked his head against the leathery wheel, trying to drown out his father's ranting and raving about how he was about to get the grounding of his life. He heaved a sigh. _Could still be worse…_

"Goddamn it."


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, kids... I'm alive. Finals put me through the ringer, so that's my excuse for a) the mini-hiatus and b) the short chapter. I'll try to make up for the lost words [read: quality] next time. For now, enjoy while I go play sims and try to pretend this last quarter never happened. I advise each and every one of you against taking a macroeconomics class... ever.

* * *

For the entire week before he went back to school, Butters Stotch was effectively exiled. His parents took his cell phone, his car keys, his iPod, his computer (only deigning to let him use it when he very calmly explained that his AP English homework _had _to be typed)—everything that made Butters a normal teenager was gone.

The wonderful part was that Butters couldn't have cared less. Actually, it was kind of nice not having to answer any text messages or facebook posts. Within a few days he'd finished his winter break homework and so had dedicated the rest of his week to reading, writing, or humming just a little too loudly when he was around his dad.

He'd been working on his latest installment of The Return of Professor Chaos on Wednesday night—the wee small hours good for writing things of such a half-baked nature to begin with, and at this time he didn't have to worry about his mom walking in and asking what he was writing. It was nearing three in the morning and, aside from the occasional windy rustling, it had been completely silent for at least a few hours.

Therefore, when something outright knocked against his window, Butters felt that he was perfectly entitled to the heart attack he nearly had. He moved gingerly toward the window, just in case any sudden movements triggered open gunfire, and let out a ragged sigh when he identified the cause of the noise. Kenny was there, just outside the window, perched on a tree branch with a smile on his face. Butters couldn't help but smile back—the super-hero complex was alive and well in the boy before him, even if he was in the habit of scaring the shit out of people.

"Why My-Mysterion," Butters sighed airily as he pulled up the window, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just making sure there's no injustice at the Stotch household," Kenny replied through that smile. _Fuck_, Butters wanted to lick it right off that handsome face. Instead he inched aside and let Kenny climb in through the open window.

"What's up, dude," Kenny muttered and brushed at a few lumps of snow on his shoulders. "I've called you a shitload—so have Wendy and Bebe. Kyle may have called once too, but don't quote me on that."

"Oh," Butters deflated and mashed his knuckles together. "Well, I'm grounded, so my parents took my phone and my computer and everything."

"Oh… shit," Kenny gave a disbelieving laugh.

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to go then?" Kenny asked and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating what was sure to be a daring window escape. And while Butters was a fan of acrobatics…

"Never _really_ want you to go," he replied with a shrug as he fingered the drawstrings of Kenny's hoodie. Kenny smiled and put an arm around him; Butters sighed contentedly when that familiar weight settled on him, pushing him back into the mess of bedspread and books. He probably should've been a little more concerned about the euphoric feelings in his belly when Kenny kissed him, but _Kenny was kissing him_ and it was very difficult to keep a level head when that was happening.

"Hey," he did manage to say when they broke apart. "How'd you know Bebe and Wendy have been trying to call me?"

"Bebe asked me if I'd heard from you," Kenny mumbled against the column of Butters' neck.

"She still mad at me?"

"Fuck if I know," Kenny snorted. "Probably not. She seemed a little worried."

"Not worried enough to come check on me or call my house," Butters pointed out. "Then again, I didn't really expect it after what I did to her."

"You didn't do anything to her," Kenny sighed and sat up. It was much colder in the room without a Kenny on top of him, but Butters hid his moment of dismay and followed the older boy's actions.

"Kenny," he said very plainly, "I knew how she felt about you. I knew how she felt a-and I let myself get involved with you, _knowing—_"

"Dude," Kenny laughed, "if the only reason you're with me is because you're intentionally trying to hurt Bebe you should tell me now so we can just go all the way and call it a night."

Butters rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the bed.

"You wouldn't get it," he sighed. "Your friends are different."

"Well, yeah," Kenny considered and lay down beside the slighter blonde. "I'm not friends with hormonal chicks, but I _am_ friends with a sociopathic Nazi and two repressed homosexuals who are deeply in love with each other."

Butters tried to hold back a smile as Kenny pulled him close. He smelled like cheap soap and that really distinct Kenny smell that sent Butters' head spinning.

"I don't think I'll ever understand girls," Butters sighed. "Thank God I'm gay." Kenny snorted and intertwined his fingers with Butters'.

"So much drama with you," he said softly, half-joking. "Here I thought telling Kyle and Stan about this was going to be exciting."

Butters' eyes shot open long before he'd actually processed what Kenny had said. Stan and Kyle… Stan and Kyle _knew_?

"They saw us in a vice-like embrace on Bebe's spare bed," Kenny laughed. "They'd already put two and two together—I figured I'd just tell them so they didn't have to pretend they didn't know."

"Well?" Butters queried and matched Kenny's gaze. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"The assholes were supportive, as usual," he sighed. "What's a guy gotta do to get a little intolerance up in this bitch?"

"Tell Cartman?" Butters suggested and added a "totally kidding" just for safety's sake. That was the absolute last thing they needed.

"And anyway," Kenny continued though a laugh, "Stan already said you came out to him, like, years ago."

Butters whined at the memory. They were nine—Butters hadn't even been one-hundred percent sure what the hell Stan had been getting at when he'd said it… but it had always stuck in his mind as one of those significant moments from childhood that he remembered for no reason.

"I was showing him my Professor Chaos alter-ego," he said. "And I came out of my closet in my costume and he pretty much told me he didn't care if I was gay."

Kenny was holding back painful-looking amounts of laughter by the looks of it. Butters just rolled his eyes and gave him silent permission to let the levee break and flood the room with laughter.

"That… that's the best coming out story ever," Kenny wheezed through the last of his fit. Butters sighed.

"Inadvertent as it may have been," he began, "I think that's why I was so… _okay_ with myself, you know? Like, even if everyone else hated me, Stan would've been okay with it… sorry, that's kinda dumb."

"It's not dumb," Kenny shook his head and ran his fingers through Butters' hair. "It's kinda cool that you had that. Some of us just have to be terrified."

Butters watched Kenny's gaze falter for a split second and placed a hand on his freezing cold cheek. Kenny leaned into the touch, eyelids fluttering shut as he reveled in the warmth. He felt it—the shift. He was on the event horizon of this relationship turning very real very, very fast and he couldn't find it in himself to put the breaks on. Kenny trusted him. Kenny had pain. If Butters fucked this up, there was a very real possibility he could be responsible for ruining a person's entire self-perception. He was starting to get what Tweek always said about pressure—yeah, he'd been under academic pressure, familial pressure, but nothing compared to the thought that Kenny's mental well-being was in the palm of his hands.

"You were terrified?" Butters finally asked. It'd been much too long since the last words of the conversation had been spoken, but Kenny didn't seem to care. He just repositioned it so that he could curl into Butters and hold onto him for dear life. _Christ_, Butters hoped he wouldn't cry. That was the last thing this week needed.

"I guess I knew that Stan and Kyle would be cool," Kenny began, voice unreasonably level, "but it's like… if someone had told me back then that they didn't care if I liked guys too… I don't know. Would've been nice."

Butters nodded and wrapped his arms securely around Kenny's shoulders.

"Fu-funny what a silly memory can bring up, huh?" he asked tentatively, unsure of what was okay to say in this kind of situation. Kenny seemed to take it in stride, judging by the soft laugh that Butters felt rumble against his chest.

"Know my favorite memory?" he asked. "When you wanted to play Lord of the Rings with us and just ended up humping the shit out of Kyle. Remember that?"

Butters immediately colored the deepest shade of red possible in a human being. He was all for distracting Kenny from whatever pain he was having but this? This was just way too painful for Butters to rehash and Kenny _shouldn't _have been enjoying it so mu—wait a second.

"How do _you_ remember that?" Butters asked. "You weren't even there."

"My soul was trapped in Cartman's body, remeber?" Kenny explained with a smile on his face. "Did you ever actually see Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah," Butters muttered. "Not until I was twelve, but yeah. Still kinda like Backdoor Sluts Nine a little better."

"Oh, my God," Kenny chuckled. "You're quite possibly the best human being alive."

"O-okay?" Butters blinked. Kenny's eyes went dark as he slipped a hand up Butters' shirt.

"Wanna play some Lord of the Rings?"

Butters rolled his eyes. "Call it that again and I disown you."

* * *

The first day back to school always sucked, but one could always fight it by having something to look forward to. The fact that Butters actually had to debate whether or not Kenny was that something was a little worrisome. He had plenty of other things that deserved just as much of his excitement: a new drama play going into production, reading _Hamlet_ in AP Lit, even going over transitive verbs in Spanish class.

The Spanish teacher certainly didn't have to make it any more dreadful than it already was by pairing Bebe and Butters together in a dialogue exercise.

"Listen, Bebe"—"Look, Butters"

"You first"—"You go ahead"

Bebe rolled her eyes and blew a chunk of her frizzy hair away from her eyes.

"Butters, I know I flipped out last week. I wasn't actually mad at _you _so much as I was mad at the... the _situation_. It's just… weird, you know?"

"Not really," Butters said softly, pointing at the book to give the teacher the impression that he was looking for something. Bebe sighed and grabbed at her hair nervously.

"I mean," she began, "it's just that when Kenny sleeps with other girls I know that he'll come back to me because I'm obviously the best."

"What's the word for 'narcissist' in Spanish?" Butters pondered aloud. Bebe rolled her eyes yet again and slapped Butters on the arm.

"The point is that you've got stuff I don't have, and if he's that crazy about you then, well, what chance do I have that he'll come back to me… you know? I mean, I may be adept, but I'm certainly not equipped like you so you know things I don't and you can do things that I can't because-"

"He's bisexual, Bebe, not shopping for a high-efficiency washer and dryer."

"I know," Bebe sighed. "It's just a weird thing to adjust to, and I tend to overreact in case you haven't noticed."

"I don't think there's anyone within a twenty mile radius of the town that doesn't know that."

"Asshole," she muttered fondly. "And I called Wendy off of you so don't worry about that. She was just being protective, but she can get carried away too."

"She's a little abrasive, yeah," Butters smiled. "But I'm sorry I didn't tell you about what was happening. It was pretty rotten of me."

"Shh," Bebe silenced him. "Tenemos mucho trabajar… to do."

"Hooray for public education."

* * *

"And where might you be off to during this lovely lunch hour?"

Butters looked beside him and smiled. Kenny had a spring in his step that Butters couldn't help describing as, well… as gay. He had a rather large sketchbook tucked under his arm and a pencil tucked behind his ear.

"I'm going to a drama club meeting," Butters explained. "You just come from the art studio or something?"

"Oh," Kenny regarded the pencil behind his ear with a smile. "I was actually thinking of heading there for fifth period since I don't have work today. Kinda hoping to hang with you in the mean time, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, I can't miss drama club—we're deciding on what play we wanna do this spring."

"Fuck, you're doing another one?" Kenny whined. "Will I at least get to see you this time?"

"You saw me last time," Butters gave a laugh. "It's real fun—you should come to the meeting, see if you'd want to help out. We always need people to paint sets and work backstage."

"Could I molest you backstage?"

"Hmm," Butters tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Would people be watching?"

"Possibly," Kenny shrugged and flashed him a smile. Butters bit at his lip.

"I'll get back to you on that," he replied with a smirk as he stopped in front of the drama club's classroom. "You just wanna come in? Sometimes we end early… and sometimes when drama ends early I'm more inclined to—"

"Blow me?" Kenny offered. Butters smacked him on the arm and shushed him.

"Have some class," he scolded the taller boy mildly. "We're in a school fo-for God's sake." Kenny rolled his eyes.

"You know, at some point you're going to have to stop being embarrassed about it," Kenny said, apparently fed up with the whole thing. Butters rolled his eyes.

"You know you're free to go find someone who's all gung-ho about blowing you in a janitor's closet, right?"

"You know your eyes are going to fall out if you keep rolling them like that, right?"

"Leave," Butters pointed his finger down the hall, trying to hide the smile on his face. "One more word outta you and you're gonna get it, mister."

"Promise?"

"Go away, a-asshole!"

Kenny cackled all the way down the hall, leaving Butters grinning like a damned lunatic as he entered the classroom. He had to get a hold of himself, had to pretend that drama club was more important than oral sex in a public place.

So… so much more important.

Right?

* * *

"I'm not sorry I got mad at you."

Butters didn't even bother looking over at the source of the voice, just replied with a simple "I know" as he shoved his AP Government book into his bag. Wendy absolutely hated when people didn't bother to come up with good responses to her outrageous statements. Even better, she hated when people ignored her, which is where Butters' locker came in handy—it was so messy and he really should clean it, or at least ruffle through papers until she begged him for his attention.

"Look, Butters," Wendy began, "I may be sorry that I yelled at you, because it wasn't any of my business, but I still think that you dating Kenny is one of the most ridiculous things you could do."

"See," Butters snapped, all hopes of playing the nonchalant card lost, "I don't get wh-what the hell is so wrong about it."

"Well, the fact that I've told you about a _thousand_ times aside," she replied, arms folded and eyebrow high on her forehead. "Now that Bebe's off his trail, I'm worried about _you_."

"I'm a big kid, Wendy," Butters groaned. "Why would you be wo-worried about me?" Wendy sighed and leaned against the lockers beside Butters'.

"If, by some miracle," she began, "that he's the nice guy you claim he is, and that you two end up being really happy… what are you going to do when you have to go to college? The closest you applied to was Boulder—everywhere else is out of state. You're going to do long distance with _Kenny McCormick_?" Butters shifted and shut his locker.

"Haven't thought that far ahead yet," he mumbled. _Lie_.

"Butters, we've been friends for years," Wendy followed him as he began heading toward the parking lot. "You're an Olympic gold medalist in thinking ahead. There's absolutely no way you're not thinking about leaving him."

"Well, who said we're that serious, Wendy?" Butters asked, as though posing the question to end all questions. Wendy was much too smart for that tactic, though. _Fucking intelligent people and their… smartness. _

"Honey, you can't say Kenny's name without smiling and I'm TA for his English class, right? He turned in a quick write with hearts doodled all along the side. Kenny McCormick doesn't do hearts."

"Do you e-ever think you don't know people a-as well as you think you do?"

"Butters, please," Wendy laughed. "It's weird behavior for both of you. Paired with your defensiveness? Yeah, I think you two may be in way deeper than you think."

"We just sleep together, Wendy," Butters rolled his eyes. "That's all there is to it. We're not, like, _exclusive_ bo-boyfriend/b-boyfriend or anything. He can sleep with whoever he wants and so can I."

"Yeah, but do you want to sleep with anyone else?" Wendy asked as they neared the lot.

"No, but ha-have you seen the selection I have to choose from?" Butters laughed. "Craig and Kenny are the only other fellas I know who sleep with guys and Craig scares me, so…"

"Does Kenny want to sleep with anyone else?"

"Probably," Butters shrugged. "I wouldn't see why not."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Wendy asked skeptically.

"No," Butters said very calmly, "because I know he can't find what we have anywhere else."

Butters stopped walking. Had he just said that? Wendy looked very smug, so he must've just said something pretty incriminating. She wouldn't stop looking at him like that, like he'd just let slip the very secrets of the universe. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'm not in love with Kenny," he said very firmly.

"I never said you were," Wendy shrugged loftily.

"He's not in love with me," Butters continued.

"It would be preposterous to assumed so," Wendy agreed. Butters rolled his eyes and stalked over to his car, needing absolutely to put anything Wendy said out of his mind.

"See you tomorrow, Butters!" Wendy called cheerfully. Butters tossed his bag into his backseat and all but peeled out of the lot.

Love… Love was absolutely out of the question. How could they be in love? That was what happened after a long time together of constant devotion and candy and flowers and that wasn't _them_. They fucked, they hung out—it wasn't anything big. It wasn't like Stand and Wendy when they'd been together, always calling and texting, never going more than ten seconds without talking to each other. It wasn't a 'let's go on a date' kind of relationship, or a 'let's take a weekend vacation' kind of relationship. They were just Kenny and Butters—two perfectly logical, reasonable people who would be able to deal with the inevitable break up on the horizon.

Butters pulled into his driveway and all but ran into his house, desperate to be up in his room amidst his homework. Doing homework meant that he wouldn't have to worry about anything else, and if he didn't have to worry about anything else he wouldn't have this disgusting feeling in the pit of his heart that made him feel like he was going to break down and cry at any moment.

"Butters, is that you?"

"Yeah, ma," Butters called back and walked into the kitchen. His mom was sitting at the dining table with a John Grisham novel, reading contentedly as her roast simmered in the oven. Butters scratched his fingernails on the fabric of his bag's shoulder strap. He briefly entertained asking his mother something along the lines of what love felt like, but he knew any answer he could get would be either really old or absolutely made up.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?"

Butters hadn't realized that his mother had since looked up from her book and was now staring at him with the utmost curiosity. He just shrugged and set his bag down by the doorjamb, deciding that joining his mother at the table was the best course of action for the moment.

"Mom, when you moved here with dad… how did you le-leave your friends?"

His mother dog-eared her page and shut the book thoughtfully.

"Well," she began, "I suppose it's just something you do. Are you worried about leaving your friends when you go to school?"

Butters nodded.

"Well," she started again, "you can't let other people keep you from doing what you need to do. You feel that you need to go away for school, so why should you let your friends keep you from doing that?"

Butters nodded again, this time a little more vaguely than he had before. He wasn't going to bring up the fact that the only reason she was with her husband still was because of other people, that the reason she was so unhappy was because she let other people dictate her life.

Holy crap, she was right.

He smiled and leaned across the table to peck her on the cheek.

"Thanks, mom," he said warmly.

"Glad I could help, sweetheart," she beamed. Butters grabbed his bag off of the floor and darted upstairs. He couldn't let his relationship with anyone come in between him and his education, his future… Kenny cared about him; he'd understand that when the time came. _Don't let anyone influence you_. Sounded easy enough.

So why did he still feel a little like crying?


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys. I know I haven't said anything about this yet, but I don't want to seem ungrateful ('cause I'm not) so thank you for all the reviews. I'm happy that so many people are enjoying what started out as a little half-baked casserole of madness and turned into what you see before you. You guys are awesome. :D

Both Kenny and Butters POV in this chapter. How exciting! I'll refrain from labeling them and just trust that you goodly readers are intelligent enough to tell which is which.

* * *

Butters had been acting kind of weird lately. He didn't think Kenny noticed, but he'd somehow come to forget that Kenny noticed everything—it was kind of his thing. Not a great quality when your parents did nothing but fight, but a fantastic quality in a… were he and Butters 'boyfriends'? A month and a half later and Kenny still wasn't really sure.

"Dude, it's Butters—he's weird all the time."

Kenny sighed. Kyle was right—Butters was, by definition, kind of a weird guy—but any clarification on the subject probably just would've made him and Stan shout and cover their 'virgin ears'. Hah. They wished.

"You guys are still fucking, right?"

Kenny's attention snapped entirely to Stan. Apparently the boy was not as squeamish as one would believe. They were in Stan's kitchen, Kenny having crashed another homework session, this time for AP Government or something, where Stan and Kyle had been waiting for Cartman to arrive so they could start reviewing. Both Kyle and Stan looked… well, if not genuinely interested in his sex life, then at least vaguely aware that he may need to talk something out, and since Cartman wasn't there yet…

"See, this is what I don't fucking get," Kenny began, "at first he was all like 'oh, kuh-kuh-Kenny, maybe we should take it slow' and then, like, when we got back to school after winter break he started acting really weird and distant and then, like, a week ago he's just like 'oh yeah, le-le-let's fuck!' Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about fucking, but… I don't know, I expected him to be one of those guys who was going to want to talk it out before I popped his cherry."

"He's a fucking guy, Kenny," Kyle raised an eyebrow. Like Kenny didn't fucking know.

"Being that I'm the only one who's seen, sucked, and fucked his dick, I'm really the only one who can really be sure of that, aren't I?"

"Hooray, images," Kyle muttered and wrinkled his nose.

"Whatever," Kenny muttered and drummed his fingers on the table, "he's just distant and it's irritating."

"I thought distance was your thing," Stan said.

"Nah," Kenny shook his head and stole a handful of chips out of the bowl between them. "Distance isn't the same as just sleeping with people. Butters and I actually have a thing, you know? I mean, I actually like hanging with him or whatever and I thought he was having a good time too... Whatever, why should I expect anyone wants anything but sex from me? Get what you give, right?" That came out way more bitter than he'd intended.

"Jesus, I know all the Goths graduated or whatever, but that doesn't mean you need to fill in for them," Stan said and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know… Whenever Wendy was like that it was always because she thought I was being _'uncommunicative_'… maybe it's that?"

"He's a fucking guy!" Kyle snapped again.

"Just because he's a guy doesn't mean he's not going to close up if he thinks something's weird," Stan rolled his eyes. "I get pissed when you don't tell me shit, but you're a moody bastard so I learned to take it in stride—maybe Butters is just getting used to you not using your words when you need to."

"Whoa, I'm not a fucking caveman," Kenny jumped to defend himself. "I'm just kinda… kinda stupid."

"Maybe you should talk to him about it," Stan shrugged. "I mean, obviously no good is coming of you just getting pissed about it."

"I'm not pissed," Kenny muttered. "It's just… what do I have to do to get someone to be my friend?"

"As opposed to the goons you have now," Kyle snorted. Kenny flipped him off.

"You don't know what it's like," he said. "You two have been on each other since we were kids, always with someone to talk to and hang out with… I mean, you guy are, like, a duo, and normally I don't mind being alone, but being with Butters is nice, you know?"

"Nah, Kyle's pretty annoying most of the time," Stan shrugged. Kyle smacked him on the arm.

"Look," Kyle began, "if you love Butters so much—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kenny exclaimed. "Who said anything about love? Did you hear me say 'love'?"

"Didn't hear you say love," Stan confirmed. "But," he continued, "you're sure making it sound like that's what you mean."

"Well, it's not," Kenny snapped and folded his arms. That wasn't what he meant… was it?

"Kenny, it's okay if you love Butters," Kyle said. "It's not a big deal. If he makes you happy—"

"He does, but not because I… because I _love_ him or anything," Kenny faltered. Fuck, he wasn't even convincing himself at this point. Christ, what the fuck _was_ love anyway? Just some bullshit reason people used so they could fuck without feeling bad about themselves. Kenny McCormick couldn't feel bad about fucking anyone even if he tried.

"Love isn't necessarily romantic, dude," Stan shrugged. "You could just love him in a friend sense."

"Isn't fucking someone you love as a friend kind of a romance death trap?" Kenny asked.

"Man, where do you get this shit?" Kyle laughed. Kenny shrugged.

"I watched _When Harry Met Sally_ with—"

"Fag."

"Fuck you both," Kenny scowled and threw a few chips their way. "I watched it with Karen because it's one of her favorite movies and my asshole parents were fighting again."

"Whatever," Stan conceded and threw his hands up. "You know how you feel about Butters, dude, whether you lie to us or not."

"When did you two realize you were in love?" Kenny asked, face dead serious. Kyle narrowed his eyes and leaned against the table.

"Don't take out your confusion on us," he said very coolly. "The nature of our relationship is none of your business."

"The fucking 'nature of your relationship', are you _kidding _me with that?" Kenny laughed. "Jesus, how long _have_ you two been fucking?" Stan just rolled his eyes, fed up to high hell with the whole thing.

"Since June, now will you please just get the fuck off of our backs?"

Kenny, for once, was stunned into silence. They were... ugh, they were actually fucking? It was one thing to joke about it, but quite another to actually... Kenny couldn't open his mouth for fear of spewing all over their faces. Stan took the opportunity to keep on talking.

"Same rules apply: no telling Cartman or anyone else, no asking, and sharing will be done on a need-basis, okay?"

Kenny nodded. Ew.

"Good," Stan beamed. "Now, go fuck off to Butters before Cartman comes in here and tries to exorcise our demons."

"Or, y'know, lock us in a gas chamber," Kyle shrugged and put a hand on the back of Stan's neck. He looked at Kenny and raised a challenging eyebrow. Kenny made no motion to challenge back but was still bombarded with an eyeful of Stan and Kyle sucking face. No matter how many times Kenny made fun of it, it would never be okay.

"All right, all right, I'm going!" Kenny cried as he pulled his hood up and made for the door.

"Don't forget to tell Butters you love him, sug'!" Stan called after him in what had to have been the most horrible impersonation of a Southern Belle to date.

"And be sure to write, darlin'—you know how we worry!"

Strike that. Kyle's was way worse.

Kenny left the Marsh household, behind him a barrage of laughter and the distinct feeling of… love, he supposed. He'd always envied what Kyle and Stan had, even when they were kids. Even when Kenny died for a few days, or when Cartman was waging war on some group of unsuspecting people, they still had each other. Kenny would often come back to school when they were younger to just the two of them sitting on a bench outside school, heads bowed together as they played on a game console or read comics or some shit. He remembered how happy they always looked together, and how sad he always felt when they barely welcomed him back.

He remembered Butters greeting him every day, rain or shine, like he was the happiest person in the world, like he was happy exclusively to see Kenny. The days he came back from being dead, those were when he saw Butters' biggest smile—

Oh, shit.

Did Butters remember that he died? Fuck, he always had, hadn't he? Kenny hadn't died in months, probably since around August, and when he came back a few days later, Butters had looked nothing short of relieved. And maybe he didn't know why he was relieved, or why he was so happy to see Kenny again when he finally did, but, honestly, it was enough for Kenny. Even if it was all in his mind, it was enough. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed (fuck, he had the goddamned number memorized) Butters.

"Hello?"

"Hey, dude, what're you doing?" He loved Butters.

"Playing cribbage," came Butters' deadpan response. Judging by the sarcasm, cribbage probably wasn't something anyone played ever. "I'm reading for AP Lit. What're you doing?"

"I just came from Stan's house… can I come over?" He was butt-fuckingly in love with Butters.

"My parents are here," Butters' voice trailed off. "Tonight?"

"I just wanted to see you," Kenny said and leaned against a lamp post, not really in the mood to care that that was without a doubt the gayest thing he'd said all day. He heard Butters sigh on the other end, and even if it meant that he was hesitating it was still the most beautiful sound in the world because it was Butters and Kenny loved Butters. He couldn't stop thinking it. It was like a disease.

"Yeah, I s'pose you could," Butters said. Kenny could see him fighting a smile. "Wanna stay for dinner?"

"Yeah," Kenny felt his own smile practically dominate his face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

"So, I kind of wanted to talk to you."

Butters looked up from his AP Lit book with the utmost caution and turned to face Kenny with nothing but absolute confusion on his face. Kenny gulped. How bad would it be if he just said something completely inane and trivial?

"Found out that Kyle and Stan are actually fucking," he tested. Butters just snorted.

"Surprise, surprise," he grinned and sat beside Kenny on his bed. They'd finished dinner hours ago, brains now saturated with meaningless shit from the inane television shows they'd watched afterward. Butters' parents had gone to bed only recently, but the younger boy's intentions were clear, even if in their primordial stages of execution.

"You can't tell anyone," Kenny clarified. Obviously, telling Butters didn't count as telling anyone. Butters was his… fuck_, what were they_?

"Yeah, who am I gonna tell?" Butters gave a laugh. "Wendy'll love that."

Kenny gave a smile and pulled Butters into a short, soft kiss. He tasted like Butters—the best part of kissing Butters was definitely tasting him on your lips a while after the fact—and it drove Kenny almost to the point of certifiable insanity.

Almost.

"Would, uh," Kenny coughed. "Would it be weird to… fuck it. You know you're my best friend, right?"

"I-I am?" Butters squeaked and mashed his knuckles together. He was a lot further from Kenny than he'd been just a second ago… Kenny pushed the thought aside and sat cross-legged on Butters' bedspread, facing the timid boy with an earnest look on his face.

"Yeah, you're my best friend," he said with a smile. Why was this suddenly like approaching a skittish deer? "And, I mean, if you have something to tell me, or something you want to… y'know, talk about… you can. with me."

"Kenny, are you okay?" Butters asked. Kenny sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was smiling, but he couldn't really say he was amused. Smiling was just always better than the alternative, he found.

"I don't know," he said softly. "You're being weird and, like, distant, I guess and if there's something wrong you can talk to me if you need to."

"I don't need to talk," Butters said very firmly, his arms folded and jaw clenched. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you do," he shot back. "Look, something's obviously wrong and if you tell me what it is, I can help you fix it."

"Well, it's not something that's fi-fixable so, just leave it," Butters stood and paced the room. He was frustrated, at war with himself—Kenny recognized the look. He did the same thing whenever he'd gone 'Professor Chaos' when they were kids: hands in his hair, face all scrunched up, shoulders all hunched like he was trying to get away from the bad voices in his head. Kenny stood and grabbed him, grabbed his wrists and held him steady for a moment. Fuck, he was going to do it. He was going to do it because he was a psychotic madman who was obviously short a significant portion of good sense.

"Butters, I lo—"

"Ah-da-da!" Butters cut him off, eyes still not open as he redoubled his efforts to escape. Kenny frowned. Curious.

"Butters, I lov—"

"Kenny, just don't," Butters pleaded and wrenched his arms out of Kenny's grip. Kenny just rolled his eyes and said it, said "I love you" over a steady stream of "la-la-la-la-la"s while Butters danced around the room with his fingers in his ears. What the fuck was it with only children, man? Kenny crossed his arms and waited for the episode to stop. He was pretty sure that this wasn't how typical 'I love you' scenes played out, but try getting anything typical in South Park and see how that works out for you.

"Are you done?" Kenny deadpanned and raised an eyebrow. Thank God for that one day in fifth grade when Kyle had disclosed the art of the judgmental eyebrow, because, seriously, it was working wonders. Butters had stopped at the first sight of it and immediately had resorted to collapsing into his desk chair, weary and depressed-looking. Was that really what Kenny's love wrought? Depression? Kenny bit his lip and kneeled before the younger boy, hands moving right away to rest on Butters' thighs. For once, the touch wasn't meant to escalate into anything, just to provide comfort, to let Butters know that he was there because his goddamned eyes were shut like he was wishing he'd never let Kenny come over to begin with. Kenny sighed.

"I love you," he said, softer this time. Butters groaned.

"Kenny—"

"Dude, why's that difficult for you to hear?"Kenny asked through a frown. He looked up to see Butters staring back down at him. There was something foreign in his eyes that Kenny couldn't really identify.

"I-it's not difficult for me to hear," Butters replied half-heartedly. His face was at such an angle that made him look about ten years old again. Kenny bit at his lip and lost the frown-he didn't need Butters thinking he was angry with him, but God, this was frustrating.

"Well then shouldn't you be happy?" Kenny gave a laugh, one merely used to diffuse the tension in the rest of his body. "Someone loving you is still a good thing, right? I mean, I'm not saying it to fuck with you, if that's what you're thinking."

"I'm not," Butters sighed and shook his head. "It's just… ho-how am I supposed to leave i-if you—if you—"

"If I love you?" Kenny finished. Butters nodded and Kenny had no choice but to laugh.

"Just stop thinking about it," he said. "Just let it be, you know? Whatever happens happens and we can't—"

"Look, can you just… go?" Butters asked, his voice thin and scratchy. He was going to start crying. He was going to cry because he didn't want Kenny to love him? Kenny wasn't the brightest, but he wasn't stupid either, and that? That didn't seem right.

"Butters…" he gave one last plea, because oddly enough he wanted to be there while Butters cried, but the younger boy just shook his head.

"I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Kenny's voice rasped. Fuck, he wasn't going to cry too, was he? McCormicks didn't cry… they drank. As Kenny left the Stotch house, he thought very vaguely of calling Craig, because Craig had good weed and always had liquor and his parents didn't care if he spent all night at Stark's Pond drinking and smoking until the break of dawn.

But no. Kenny just walked back to his house, cold February air nipping unpleasantly at his exposed face. He pulled his hood up and tied its strings tight, but his cheeks still felt sickeningly cold.

He should've known better.

* * *

"He said that?"

Butters nodded and inhaled deeply. He didn't want to open his eyes, because opening his eyes meant seeing Bebe's and Wendy's faces all shocked and covered in green stuff and right now he just wanted to beat his head against a sidewalk until his stupidity just leaked out and let him be for the rest of his life. But, being that that would've resulted in phenomenal brain damage, Butters settled on getting help from girls instead.

"When did this happen again?" Bebe asked.

"Friday afternoon," Butters replied.

"And it's Sun—"

"I know it's Sunday, Bebe," Butters whined and rubbed at his eyes. This had been a bad idea. Bebe and Wendy, considering their feelings on the subject, had been far from Butters' first choice when he decided he needed to tell someone about what had happened. Man, why couldn't he talk to someone else about this? Come to think of it, who else _would_ he talk to about this? Kenny. Because he was Kenny's best friend and—_son of a bitch_—Kenny was his. Oh, Butters was in trouble.

"Have you called him?" Wendy asked.

Butters shook his head. What would he say?

"Conversations don't work if you don't say your part out loud."

"Wendy, leave him alone," Bebe chided. "Butters, do you… do you love him back?"

"That's not my problem," Butters sighed. He loved Kenny McCormick—he knew that. That's what'd started this whole goddamned mess. Butters was going to leave and start his life in college in a few months, and love meant that leaving Kenny behind was going to be a bitch of a difficult thing to do. Butters opened his eyes and found that both girls were looking at him with the most genuine concern he'd seen on them in months.

"N-now, I'm confused," Butters frowned. "Weren't you gals against this whole thing? Shouldn't you be ha-happy that I'm upset?"

"Butters, don't be stupid," Wendy rolled her eyes. "You're our friend and no matter what we'll always get upset when you're upset. Sweetheart, we love you."

"Almost as much as Kenny," Bebe nodded. Wendy gave a laugh and sipped out of a large mug. The jibe aside, Butters was happy that they were in high spirits again. Wendy had been admitted early into Cornell, so she was as happy as Butters had ever seen her, and Bebe was especially happy now that she was dating Token. Butters laughed to himself. _Probably 'cause his dick is huge._

"Butters!"

"Aw, crap, di-did I say that out loud?"

Bebe smiled and drummed her fingers on the side of another large mug. Butters just pursed his lips and kept a firm hold on his own mug. Emotional? Yes. Certifiably insane? Absolutely. But they were actually trying to help, and they'd made him hot cocoa, so…

"He says I'm over-thinking it."

"You probably are," Bebe shrugged. Wendy, meanwhile, was shaking her head.

"No such thing," she said. "Honey, you're right to think ahead."

"You're both way too cerebral," Bebe sighed. "Virgo and Gemini… such a volatile combination, you two. You just analyze the shit out of everything until you've destroyed any chance at happiness. I'm a Libra—I just roll with it."

"Yeah?" Wendy laughed. "What about Kenny?"

"Scorpio," Bebe laughed. "Poor Butters is fucked."

"Wait," Butters frowned, the cogs in his brain going at a rapid pace now. "I always thought he was older than me." Bebe and Wendy just stared at him.

"Honey, he's been eighteen since October," said Bebe. "You didn't know that?"

"He never said anything," Butters muttered. Why wouldn't Kenny have told him about his birthday? More importantly, why hadn't Butters known before? Jesus, not only was he a shitty significant other, but a shitty friend too. That was just fucking fantastic.

"I don't know," Bebe shrugged. "He was really weird around then… just before Halloween. He just gets weird sometimes, as I'm sure you've observed."

Butters just nodded. He had to talk to Kenny.

"Uh, tha-thanks for talking to me, girls," he said as he stood. "I think I'll give him a call."

He kissed them both on top of their heads—the green guck was still on their faces and it didn't look very edible or appetizing. He all but ran out to his car and sped all the way over to Kenny's house. The few times he'd bothered to drive into Kenny's neighborhood he always had the overwhelming fear that someone was going to steal his hubcaps or have sex in his back seat.

No one said anxiety was rational.

He pulled up in front of Kenny's house and really debated on calling him first, but that ran the risk of Kenny saying he wasn't home or lying or… something. Decidedly, Butters got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Kenny's blinds were down and there was no reason to give him a heart attack by sneaking in through his window. With a deep breath he knocked semi-confidently on the door. He waited for a few moments, knocked again, and when there came no motion to answer his heart sank. He was just about to turn back to his car when the door opened, a slim girl in an oversized orange hoodie answered.

"Uh, he-hey, Karen," Butters gave a smile. He'd met the girl a few times and by now he figured she'd be able to recognize him. "Is Kenny here?"

Karen raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow and continued smakcing her gum like a cow chewing its cud. Her eyes were that same piercing, volatile blue that Kenny's were.

"Depends," she finally said. "Are you the douchebag who's got my brother watching _Meet Me in-_goddamnedfucking_-St. Louis_ on repeat?" Butters rolled his eyes.

"Can I _please_ come in?" he begged. "I re-really need to talk to him."

Karen gave him a final once over before stepping aside and allowing Butters to run to Kenny's room. Kenny was curled up in a ball on his bed amidst piles of dirty clothes, old pop-tart wrappers, and what appeared to be loose sketches. Whether or not he was sleeping remained to be seen, so when he didn't respond to Butters clearing his throat, Butters figured he'd just tip-toe over and wake him gently.

"Stay right there."

Okay, so not asleep. Kenny rolled over and sat on the edge of his bed, greasy hair framing his paled face. He was scruffy and dirty and downtrodden and _fuck_, Butters was responsible for all of it… Trust him to mess up something this badly without even trying.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"So am I," Kenny replied, his voice hollow. Butters bit his lip. He had to start the conversation somehow, but there was way too much swimming in his head right at that moment even to consider finding a good opening. Instead he looked down at his feet and cleared his throat once more.

"I-I didn't know you were eighteen," he offered, looking up with a harmless smile. Kenny rolled his eyes and grabbed a joint off of his desk. Butters barely flinched when he lit up.

"Please tell me you reported me for statutory rape."

Butters may have flinched at that.

"Kenny, I've been a jerk," he admitted. "And if you can't forgive me, I'll understand." Kenny just laughed and took a long drag off the joint. He offered to Butters, and looked slightly surprised when Butters accepted it gratefully and took almost as deep a drag as he had.

"You've done that before?"

Butters nodded and exhaled.

"Once, with you," he said, "once with Wendy and Bebe before we went to see _New Moon._"

"Wendy's smoked pot?" Kenny asked, voice high and thin with disbelief. "How's that gonna look on her political record? Did she inhale?"

"Oh yeah," Butters nodded and sat beside Kenny. He took another drag and handed it back to the older boy.

"Man, you know you're gonna be high as shit if you help me finish this, right?" Kenny grinned. Butters nodded.

"Which is why I'll say what I wanted to say now," he said. "But first: why didn't I know you were eighteen?"

"Because I never really tell people about my birthday anymore," Kenny shrugged. "Fucking pointless, you know? Not a kid anymore, and no one'd celebrate it with me except Stan and Kyle… and, well, you now, obviously."

"Even before this I would've," Butters frowned and plucked the joint from Kenny's fingers.

"I know," Kenny sighed, like it was something he was struggling to accept. "Anyway, this year Kevin left right around my birthday and shit was really bad here, so it really kinda got overshadowed. Whatever, doesn't matter anymore. You come here for anything else?"

"Yeah," Butters coughed and all but pushed the joint back into Kenny's hand. "Yeah. You're my best friend too."

"I figured," Kenny shrugged.

"And you drive me insane."

"Also kinda figured."

"And I don't mean to over-think everything, but I do and it can drive you insane if you want but it's not going anywhere so I think you're just gonna have to suck it up and love me for it because I deal with your annoying shit too and I don't love you any less for it."

"You're so fucking high," Kenny chuckled and took another drag.

"I am not!" Butters exclaimed. Except, yeah, he kind of was getting there. His face felt funny and he had the overwhelming urge to laugh… or curl into Kenny's body heat, because it was cold in that house and if he just had something to hold onto and stroke maybe life wouldn't be so bad… Why was Kenny laughing? Butters watched Kenny put out the joint and set it on his desk, presumably for later. Butters didn't know anything except that he couldn't stop smiling.

"I've been thinking about it and I'm pretty sure I know what your deal is," Kenny nodded. He turned to Butters and grabbed his hands. "You've got commitment issues."

"Yeah, well you're clingy, and I still love you," Butters shot back half-heartedly as he ran his fingertips over Kenny's rough hands. "I love you, by the way."

"I know that," Kenny grinned. "On both counts. Still, we're not talking about me. Your parents' relationship is fucked and it's pretty much just ruined you for love. You think that it's either a) not real, or b) unattainable for regular people, so impossible for you because you're gay and you still have hang ups about being gay, so don't fucking lie."

"Your parents never held you when you were a kid and now you glom onto anyone who's willing to give you affection outside of bed," Butters countered and raised his eyebrows in challenge. Kenny snorted, because Butters was the most unthreatening person when he was high… maybe it had something to do with the fact that Butters couldn't stop touching him to save his life. Whatever, he liked the way Kenny felt.

"Your eyes are close together," Kenny said softly.

"Oh, yeah?" Butters laughed. "You... you've got a big nose."

"You've got dimples on your ass."

"You've go—I do?"

Kenny nodded and ran his hands through Butters' hair. How—_how_ did that feel so amazingly good?

"And then you've got the ones right above, just at the base of your spine?" he breathed hot into Butters' ear. "The ones my thumbs fit into perfectly."

Well, that just made _no_ sense. How would he know if his thumbs fit in anywhere on his…

"Oh," Butters realized in a hushed tone, "like when we're fucking?"

Kenny nodded and pulled Butters into a kiss.

"Wanna finish talking later?"

"Are you hard too?"

Kenny laughed softly.

"Yeah, Butters."

"Can we fuck?" Butters asked, like there was a possibility of Kenny saying 'no'.

"Thought we were talking," Kenny teased lightly. Butters' eyes went big-shit, they were bright fucking red-as he shook his head. He hopped up from the bed and went to lock Kenny's door, returning with a clumsy half-walk, half-stumble as he pulled off his shoes. When he finally fell onto the bed, Kenny brought him into a hazy kiss.

"You think it's bad that we can't have a serious conversation without being high?" Butters wondered aloud, blatantly disregarding all the times they'd conversed while sober. Kenny just kept on kissing him, on his neck, on his jaw, on every bit of exposed skin that he could see.

"Wait," Butters whispered. "You never told me if you forgive me."

Kenny's only answer was a kiss—soft, passionate, and totally meant to shut Butters up so they could carry on with what they'd started.

They could finish talking later.


	9. Chapter 9

**HEY! **So, my little lovelies... I have the rest of this planned out. Yes, against all odds I mapped out the rest of the story and I'm going to say that we have approximately four chapters and an epilogue left. This is, of course, subject to change if I find that I can't stretch it out that long. Outlining/finishing stories is new for me, but if you can't experiment in the realm of fanfiction, then I really have no hope.

That being said, enjoy another half-baked installment.

* * *

Butters had tried everything from repression to therapy and still he couldn't find an effective way to handle when his parents fought... unless curling up under his covers and plugging his ears counted (he was pretty sure didn't). Kenny, another seasoned veteran of parental shouting matches, was usually pretty good at, if not at helping him cope then certainly by distracting him; when sex proved to be a massive failure in that department they just left the house altogether, wandering aimlessly until something caught their eye.

"That sounded pretty nasty," Kenny started in after one particularly heated match. Butters nodded and shoved his hands in his sweater pockets. It was March already, and while it was a right sight warmer than the last few months had been, Butters' hands had a tendency to get cold without Kenny's to warm them. No hand-holding in public: rule one of semi-secret relationships.

"Any idea what they were fighting about?" Kenny continued. Butters shrugged.

"I-it's stupid," he sighed. When Kenny gave that insistent look, Butters knew he had to keep going. He ran his hands through his hair and took a breath—what he wouldn't have given for drink or something to loosen him up. That was probably the makings of a really unhealthy relationship to alcohol... Shit. Kenny was looking at him. _Concentrate._

"It's their wedding anniversary today, and that's when all this really started… gosh, must've been about nine or ten years ago by now."

"When what started?" Kenny asked, taking only a moment to grab a stick off of the ground in front of him and start dragging it through the snow. Butters gave a frown. He thought everyone remembered this story. Stan, Kyle, and Eric all did-and in Eric's case used it as taunting fodder later on-so why didn't Kenny? Curious.

"I-it's kinda when I accidentally outed my dad," Butters mashed his knuckles together. Why in God's name did he have to rehash all this now? "And then my mom tried to kill me."

"No big deal then," Kenny smiled, mischief lighting up his eyes. Butters laughed, the tension fleeing from his body almost instantly.

"Guess not," he said. "Anyway, they just get real pissed at each other around this time of year, a-and every time they do I kinda just wish they'd get a divorce and mo-move on with their lives."

"You're probably one of the only kids who wants his parents to split up," Kenny gave a laugh and stopped to draw a massive dick in front of Cartman's house.

"Kenny, they're miserable," Butters explained. "I—_I'm_ miserable… aside from you, anyway. I mean, it wasn't so bad when I was younger, but these last couple years have been downright _awful_ and it's because they hate each other. It's like I'm the only thing keeping 'em together and… And I just want my mom to be ha-happy, you know?"

"Not your dad?" Kenny asked, almost automatically. Hairy balls took a lot of concentration to replicate in the snow.

"My dad tried to send me to degayification camp," Butters said very plainly, and then tacked on a "hypocritical bastard can go fuck himself." Just an afterthought.

"Guess the typical 'hope he gets ass-fucked by demons in hell' wouldn't be much of a punishment as far as he's concerned," Kenny agreed.

"In what world is that the typical response to this situation?" Butters asked, just in time for Cartman to come out of his house and shout at them both to get off his 'propertah'.

"Hang on," Kenny held up a finger with his free hand, tongue stuck out in concentration as Cartman stalked over to see just what in the hell was going on, "just trying to replicate the one your mom was deep-throating last night."

"Aw, goddamnit, Kenny!" Cartman shouted. Kenny cackled madly when the larger boy started stomping on his art.

"Yeah, well the only reason I'm not pissing on it is 'cause this faggot's here with you."

After a while, 'faggot' really just started to roll off of Butters' back. He blamed the schools—seriously, no one could come up with better fucking insults than 'faggot' or 'queer'? It was just downright depressing. Butters hardly ever noticed it anymore, like when peoplewho live by train tracks hardly ever noticed the sounds of the train going by after a while. White noise.

Kenny, however, was new to this game. He threw the stick down in the snow and gave Cartman a threatening shove to the shoulder. Butters paled.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to call him that before it sinks in, fat boy?"

"Kenny—" Butters tried to interject, but it was too late. Cartman had locked onto his target and was now zeroing in. This was why Butters never gave him the satisfaction of pissing him off—not anymore.

"Gosh, Kenny, probably about as many times as you have to deep-throat his cock before it sinks in that you're totally queer."

"Well, seeing how I lost count of that months ago, it's probably gonna be a while," Butters countered almost automatically. Cartman and Kenny both whipped their heads around so fast that it must've nearly snapped their necks. They'd probably forgotten he was even there. Butters just shrugged and gave them both a smile.

"Ho-ho!" Cartman gave a hearty laugh. "So it's like that, is it? Kenny, you dirty girl, I had no idea!"

Kenny's face was bright red and Butters instantly got the feeling he may have overstepped his bounds. Yeah, they hadn't wanted Cartman to know anymore than anyone wanted Cartman to know anything, but Butters was really way past the point of caring—he had so much dirt on Cartman that he eventually became persona don't-fuck-with number one. Whether Eric liked it or not, Kenny was now under that protection. Butters grabbed Kenny's hand and gave Cartman a smirk.

"Well, now, don't let's forget who dee-deep-throated who first," he said. "You should keep better track of your things, Eric-" Butters then made a frame with the thumb and pointer fingers of both hands, "—you wouldn't want to lose any incriminating evidence you may have."

With a wink, Butters started down the street with Kenny in tow, ignoring Cartman's empty threats as he made way for Stark's Pond. Did this count as hand-holding?

"Butters, god _damn_ it, what the fuck did you do that for?" Kenny snapped. "Now he knows about us, and then he'll know about fucking Stan and Kyle, and fuck-fuck-_fuck_!"

"Will you calm down?" Butters rolled his eyes. "Re-really now, I'm not good at being the calm one."

"Goddamn, can you believe that asshole?" Kenny continued. "How can you not get mad every time he calls you that? He calls you that all the fucking time right to your face and you never even stick up for yourself."

"Doesn't bug me," Butters shrugged and walked them over to the pond just a ways away. He sat them down on the bench and started rubbing circles on the back of Kenny's chapped hand. When Kenny seemed a little calmer, Butters gave him a peck on the lips. PDAs were probably on that list of things they shouldn't be doing if they wanted to keep their relationship quiet, but Kenny was one of those people who really benefitted from the extra physical contact. The older boy sagged slightly and took a deep breath. He'd finally let himself concede. Butters wouldn't make a mention of how good he was getting at that.

"It's just… how can you not get _mad_?" Kenny asked in utter disbelief. Butters pursed his lips and let go of Kenny's hands, slumped in his seat and ran his hands through his hair.

"Remember when everyone made fun of you for being poor when we were kids?" he began.

"Past tense not applicable, but yeah."

"Remember how you'd get mad?"

"Yeah."

"You got mad when we were kids, but now when they call you poor it doesn't bug you, right?"

"Sure," Kenny shrugged, unaware of where all of this was going. Butters rolled his eyes and sat up a bit.

"Well, why?"

"Because I have a job now?" Kenny guessed. Butters nodded, signaling for the older boy to continue. Kenny sighed. "And I guess I figured that I was better than them. Like, that I'd be better off than them in the end."

"It's the same thing," Butters said, his hand ghosting over Kenny's once more, "people call me a fag and it just kinda let it go. Not 'cause it doesn't hurt, just 'cause it's a lot easier than getting mad. A lot better for your heart too which, with my neurosis, is helpful."

Kenny smiled and threaded his fingers through Butters', which Butters took as a hint to keep on talking. He was really bad at being silent once he started that mouth running.

"—plus, if you don't let anyone see you're upset, nine times outta ten they stop. That's why we all keep calling Eric fat, isn't it? I don't know why he gets mad still—it's not like it's a big secret."

"Shit," Kenny laughed and rubbed his free hand over his face. "You seriously do think way too goddamned much."

"The perils of having a brain, I know," Butters gave an overdramatic pout and gripped Kenny's hand playfully. Kenny squeezed back.

"And hey, wasn't I supposed to be the upset one today?" Butters pointed out. Kenny snorted and untangled their fingers.

"Sorry to piss on your parade," he said and reached in his pocket for a cigarette. He lit up and took the first pull. "Thought you'd be happy I stood up for you."

"Nah, you didn't stand up for me," Butters sighed and grabbed the cigarette from Kenny's fingers. He took a drag. "You hear the word 'fag' and now that you know it's kinda your thing, you get mad. You said it all the time when we were kids a-and it didn't bother you then. It's just a cheap shot, Kenny. And fighting with Cartman of all people? I mean, I know you're a good guy, and that you have a superhero complex and all, but you can't right all the wrongs in the world."

"God, now I remember why we never talk in public," Kenny sighed and took back his cigarette. "Fucking's the only time you'll shut up."

"Classy," Butters shot back.

"I grew up eating toaster waffles for dinner—you're lucky I'm as classy as I am," Kenny looked at Butters and grinned. Butters grinned back and took the cigarette again.

"Speaking of class," Kenny started in, "I'm going to have to have a talk with the bastard who keeps smoking all my goddamned cigarettes."

"Mm," Butters hummed and exhaled a plume of smoke. "He sounds kinda sexy."

"Eh, kinda femmy," Kenny shrugged.

"Hey!" Butters snapped just as his phone started buzzing. Butters shot Kenny a look to say that this wasn't over and opened up his phone.

"Hey, Wendy," he said just as Kenny laid a big sloppy kiss on his neck.

"Wendy, you know you called me, right?" Butters rolled his eyes amusedly toward Kenny. Kenny made a rather crude tongue-cheek gesture that made Butters shove his face away. As the conversation progressed, Kenny made more and more gestures and Butters' face grew more and more—

"Aw, fuck!" Butters shouted and leapt up. Kenny somehow fell off the bench altogether.

"What?" Kenny asked, but Butters didn't appear to have heard him.

"Wendy, I'll call you back," Butters shut his phone and helped Kenny stand.

"Where's the fucking fire?" Kenny groaned and rubbed at the back of his head. He hadn't hit it, but it seemed like the right thing to do. They had to be the most spastic pair in history.

"I gotta get home," Butters explained hurriedly. "You coming?"

Kenny nodded, only to find that 'get home' meant 'run home as fast as humanly possible'. While Butters was athletic from all those years of dance and theater, Kenny had a few seasons of little league and five solid years of smoking under his belt. He'd kill Butters for wanting to walk instead of drive.

When he finally made it back to the Stotch house, Butters had been there for a while. He burst in the front door, wheezed a little at Mrs. Stotch, who pointed up at the second floor, wheezed a little more, and crawled up the stairs. He collapsed on Butters' bed amidst the younger boy's frantic search for something or another. .

"I hope you move this fast when I call you looking for a fuck," Kenny panted against the sheets.

"Not now, Kenny," Butters muttered. "Shit, I can't find i—Ha! Here it is."

Kenny didn't even bother looking up from the bedspread to know that he didn't care, not when his lungs were this close to catching fire. He heard some frantic tapping of keys on the laptop, some cursing, more frantic taps, more cursing, over and over until Butters apparently couldn't take it anymore.

"What's wrong?" Kenny mumbled into the mattress.

"UCLA sends out its acceptances today and I can't _fucking_ log into the website to check."

Kenny sighed and pushed himself off of the bed. Butters was typing furiously, but it appeared that his hands were shaking way too much to be effective in any way. Kenny kissed him on the back of the neck and moved his hands off of the keys.

"What am I typing?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and low. He didn't know what Butters was talking about—being the calm one was definitely the way to go.

"I-it's on this sheet," Butters pointed at a crumpled sheet of paper beside his hand. Kenny nodded and entered the information.

"I-I can't look," Butters muttered and shut his eyes.

"It's not a pregnancy, Butters. You can't just keep it a surprise until the last second," Kenny said calmly as they waited for the page to load. "I mean, what would you do, just open your eyes once you got to your dorm? 'Herp derp, I guess I's goin' ta dis caw-ledge, maw!' Christ…" Kenny muttered more to himself as his eyes darted over the screen. He felt his heart give an anxious start.

"You're in, dude," he smiled against Butters' ear. Butters' cartoonish blue eyes shot open and read the words before him. He jumped up from his seat, both letting out a giant whoop and knocking Kenny over in the process, and fumbled for his phone. When did Kenny's life turn into an episode of the Three Stooges?

"Wendy!" Butters all but shouted into the phone. "Wendy, I got in!"

Kenny propped himself up on his elbows and felt his face curl into a smile. He hadn't seen Butters so ecstatic since the fifth grade, and even then he'd dialed it back almost immediately when he'd realized people were watching. Something about it made Kenny's heart soar, another something about it made Kenny's stomach feel like a ball of lead. Butters was happy—really fucking happy—and Kenny wasn't a part of it.

Butters hung up the phone, giant grin still on his face, and sat right on Kenny's lap.

"I love you," he beamed. Kenny gave a half-hearted smile.

"Love you too, Leopold," he said, his voice low and soft. "Congratulations." Butters gave a laugh, one of those laughs that only came when your body was so fucking excited that it had no other way of expressing it, and kissed Kenny firm on the mouth.

"Baby, if my parents weren't just downstairs I'd fuck you right into the floor."

Kenny's elbows gave way as Butters licked a stripe up his neck. Rare (and blessed) was the occasion when Butters showed such force. He had a sudden hatred for the Stotches. Didn't they have lives to live outside their goddamned house? Well, at least where there wasn't fucking there was a fair bit of necking, so all hope wasn't entirely lost.

"Did getting a college acceptance really get you hard, Butters?" Kenny laughed.

"Excitement, you—it's a volatile combination," Butters murmured against Kenny's jaw.

"Fucking nerd," Kenny quipped affectionately. Butters ran his hands through Kenny's hair and gave him another kiss.

"I did it," he whispered softly. Kenny smiled.

"You did it," he countered just as softly.

"Kenny, I get to get out of this fucking town," Butters continued between kisses. "I don't ever have to come back if I don't want to."

Kenny's heart immediately stopped soaring and sunk down into the pit of his stomach to join its fellow fallen soldiers. Holy shit—Butters was going to leave. He was going to leave Kenny in the dust, in this shitty little town with its wacky-ass people and he wasn't even going to come back to save the person he loved.

Butters was going to leave and there wasn't a thing Kenny could do to stop him.

"Kenny, are you crying?"

"No, you just won't stop licking my face," Kenny muttered. Half-truths still weren't total lies.

"Oh, right… you want me to stop?"

"… no."

"Good."

* * *

"Good job on getting into UCLA—it's a fine institution, m'kay?"

"Thanks, Mr. Mackey!"

Kenny leaned against the locker beside Stan's and watched as Butters enjoyed the shower of for-once positive attention. The younger boy was beaming still. Even when Wendy came up to talk to him, his smile didn't falter-that couldn't have been easy. Kenny's dick practically fell off at the sight of her.

"It's good to see Butters happy again," Stan commented lightly and shut his locker door. Kenny felt a stab of jealousy in the pit of his stomach at the insinuation. Hadn't he made Butters happy? Then he realized that he was jealous of a couple of buildings and decided he'd either have to let it go or declare himself mentally unstable.

"Do you want him to go?" Stan asked.

"Of course I don't fucking want him to go," Kenny replied and started down the hall to the cafeteria. Stan adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

"You ever think about telling him?" he suggested.

"Fuck no!" Kenny exclaimed. He dialed back when Stan jumped back half a step. "I mean… it's his fucking dream, you know? I can't ask him to stay—it's fucking selfish."

"Well, you're obviously upset," Stan pointed out as they got in the food line. "You can't keep it all inside, dude. That's how people have heart attacks and become alcoholics and shit."

"I'm not going to ask him to stay," Kenny said firmly and grabbed a plate of pizza and fries. Stan rolled his eyes.

"No one's saying you are," he said. "Tell him how you feel, dude."

"Too gay," Kenny shook his head.

"And letting him rail you in the ass isn't?" Stan all but cried as they sat down. "What a relief."

"Look," Kenny gave a laugh, "if I tell him how I feel, he'll get all guilty and convince himself he wants to stay. I won't do it."

"If you keep quiet he may feel like you don't care," Stan pointed out. Kenny raised an eyebrow.

"… whoa, dude," he said softly. Stan nodded and squeezed some mustard on his burger.

"I dated a woman for eight years—I know my way around this shit."

"You're like the Mr. Miyagi of feelings," Kenny agreed facetiously. Stan gave him a wink and wasted no more time in attacking his food. Kenny looked around the cafeteria and sighed. Was it too much that something just go well in his life for once?

"Hey, dudes," Kyle said and sat down beside Stan. Stan gave him a bright smile.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

"Ugh, just went and talked to the debate team," Kyle sighed. "Heads up, I think Cartman's going to come—"

"Kenneth, so glad I found you here."

Kenny's blood ran cold at the sound of Cartman's voice. Maybe if he kept perfectly still, Cartman would forget he was there. Something told Kenny that his eyesight was based on movement… like how he got his power from Earth's yellow sun and the tears of children.

"Kenny, I've been thinking about your situation and I think I have a solution."

"'Situation'?" Kyle and Stan asked.

"Me and Butters," Kenny mumbled and tossed them the 'don't ask' look.

"Well, I've decided that I am especially not okay with it."

"Oh, goddamn it!" Kenny whined at the disapproving look on the fat fuck's face. He moved to sit beside Kenny with his lunch, effectively pushing Kenny's tray to the edge of the table and sending his chocolate milk off the surface altogether.

"Kenny," Cartman said very imploringly, "you know that you are in fact my dearest friend—"

"No I'm not."

"As your Super Best Friend—"

"We are _not_ Super Best Friends."

"—I am invoking Super Best Friend responsibility. I have to warn you when your very soul is in danger."

"Oh, here we go…" Stan muttered.

"Kenny, homosexuality is wrong. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that God hates fags almost as much as he hates the Jews."

"Oh, for the love of God."

"Silence, Jew-fag," Cartman snapped in Kyle's face. "Kenny, you may feel like this wasn't a choice—"

"It wasn't," Kenny sighed and poked at his pizza.

"Well, of course not," Cartman nodded in pseudo sympathy, "you can't be blamed. You're a nice guy, Kenny, and you thought nothing bad would come from hanging out with Butters, but alas—"

"Are you fucking kidding me, fatass?" Kyle shouted. Stan gave him a small pinch, reminding him that they were in public and making a scene probably wouldn't be the best idea.

"Kyle, I won't tell you to shut your goddamn mouth again," Cartman warned calmly. "Now, fortunately, Kenny, there is a way that we can cure you of your affliction."

"Sucking dick isn't an affliction," Kenny pointed out.

"We just have to destroy—aw, sick!"

Kenny shrugged and took a big bite of his pizza. Butters was right—not caring was way better than getting pissed. Plus, reminding Cartman of just what gay entailed was way too fun an opportunity to pass up.

"See?"Cartman yelped. "Butters is a menace to society and he must be stopped. You're under his spell, but rest assured: I will avenge you. I will free you from his evil tyranny!"

"Cartman," Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "the last time you tried to fight evil you nearly got all of us killed and started the reign of Cthulhu. Maybe you should lay off the warped hero thing you've got going."

"Yeah, Cartman," Kyle chimed in, "Butters didn't put a spell on Kenny, so lay off. Anyway, you're just pissed off that Butters isn't at your beck and call anymore."

"Nuh-uh!" Cartman cried. "That's totally not the reason, Kyle. I care about the well-being of Kenny's _soul_."

"You just want to get back at Butters for having the balls to stand up for himself," Stan agreed with Kyle.

"Seriously, fatass, you're almost eighteen," Kyle scowled. "Don't you think you're a little too old for this revenge shit?"

"Know what? No," Cartman threw down his spork and grabbed his tray. "Screw you guys, I'm going home."

"You're also a little too old to get fed up with us and run away," Kyle said, voice void of any and all indications that he wanted Cartman to stay. Cartman turned around and raised an eyebrow. He then grabbed Kyle's lunch from the table, retrieved a bag of Cheesy Poofs from within, and tossed the paper sack back in front of him.

"Frankly, my dear, I just _don't_ give a damn."

He hadn't been out of the cafeteria for five seconds when Stan asked if that just happened.

"Probably repressing his own homosexuality," Kyle shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. He and Stan kept eating while Kenny sat staring idly at the bright linoleum floor before him, food still in front of him despite the fact that he no longer had any intention of eating.

"And," Kyle continued, "One day I'm going to make him buy me Cheesy Poofs to replace all the boxes my family has sacrificed to him over the years."

"Appease the mighty one," Stan's voice boomed through their little area, drawing the attention of a few tables around them, "or he'll kick your ass for so super seriouslah."

"You don't think he'd hurt Butters, do you?"

Kyle and Stan paused in their laughter, as though they'd forgotten Kenny was still there with them. Then Stan gave a laugh that only he could've given, because he was sane, and calm, and so _fucking_ cool about everything when people were upset.

"Dude, Cartman couldn't hurt Butters even if he tried," he said. "He's just being immature about the whole thing."

"And if he hurts him we could always just shoot him in the face," Kyle shrugged. "Not a jury in the world would convict us."

"Hey, fellas!"

"Hey, Butters," Stan and Kyle chorused as Butters sat down beside Kenny.

"Congrats on UCLA, dude," Stan smiled.

"Yeah, that's really cool," Kyle said, checking Kenny's face for any shut-the-fuck-up cues. Kenny just shrugged and ate a few fries off of his tray. Even his own friends would betray him.

"—and my aunt even lives out there, so I'd be around family too!"

"I need a cigarette," Kenny interrupted and picked up his tray. "See you guys later."

Kenny deposited his tray in the dish room and rushed outside, grateful for the cold mountain air that consumed him. As he headed back behind the gym he felt the lead return to the pit of his gut. It was worse than Butters leaving in a few months—he was already gone. The moment he'd read those words on the school's website, he'd checked out of his life in South Park and was already building one in Los Angeles.

Red Goth and Little Goth were behind the gym, smoking cigarettes and blasting The Cure on their stereo when Kenny arrived. The other two of their clan had graduated, leaving plenty of room for Kenny to smoke without being disturbed.

"You look like you're in pain," came Red Goth's response to the new presence.

"And I'm also not in the mood to deal with your bullshit, so… y'know, fuck off."

"We were here first," Little Goth snapped. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Not physically," he clarified. "Just leave me alone."

"Don't bother," Red told the younger boy. "Fucking conformists just don't know how to deal with their pain."

Kenny glowered at the asphalt beneath his shoes. He knew perfectly well how to deal with his pain, thank you very much. He looked over at them, both all clad in black as they eyed him like prey. Kenny cocked his head.

"Either of you got any weed?"

"Ew, gross," Red scoffed. "Goths don't smoke weed."

"We've got some vodka if you want," the little one piped up and pulled a flask out of his otherwise empty backpack. He tossed it to Kenny, who accepted the gesture gratefully.

If Butters was going to leave him, he may as well start trying to make new friends now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Well well well..**. look what the cat dragged in. Sorry for the mini-hiatus (yet again), but school's been kicking my ass in all sorts of fun and interesting ways. Anyway, just take a load off, put in your monacles, and give your tophats a jaunty tilt-that's the only way to enjoy such high-brow entertainment.

* * *

Of course Butters got to go to LA to look at his school… of course he did. And what was more, he'd accumulated such good will over the last four years that, when he decided to leave a few days before spring break to prance around in the sunshine, the school's administration practically paved a fucking golden pathway that led all the way to California.

"I think you mean yellow brick road," Butters had jested the night before he left. They'd been in Butters' room, Kenny's hands everywhere on Butters' body as he tried to rememorize every single facet that made this physical form so fantastic while Butters spent most of his time trying to suck the lips right off of Kenny's face. Kenny had let the comment slide in favor of some eleventh-hour goodbye sex.

Now, of course, it was the Friday before spring break and fourth period was dragging on in an agonizing way. He'd groaned when he saw 'sonnets' written on the board in the teacher's impeccable script and had fallen asleep not ten minutes in.

Unfortunately, his teacher was the kind who slammed dictionaries on the desks of innocent sleepers. Kenny shot straight up, ears hypersensitive to the laughter of his classmates, and looked upon the teacher with disdain as she returned to the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat and looked back at her book.

"_When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,_

_I all alone beweep my outcast state—_"

Kenny tuned out and instead opted to start up a series of doodles on a blank page of his notebook. What started out as a few harmless lines turned out to be a very detailed drawing of Mysterion. Kenny looked upon the drawing with mixed feelings of nostalgia and lament. What happened to that kid?

"Whoa, dude, that's badass!"

Kenny looked over his shoulder to see Stan, who sat cattycorner right behind him, looking at the drawing with awe. Kenny coughed and flipped the page. Fucking Stan never did know when to mind his own goddamned business.

"Hey, come to the movies with us tonight?"

Kenny pursed his lips and turned back around. Stan's eyes were big and hopeful, his smile genuine. Kenny shook his head.

"Third wheel," was all he said. Stan shrugged.

"Kyle's actually going to Ike's baseball game tonight, so it'd just be you and me."

"What the fuck is out that you want to see so bad? Let's just play some fucking video games at your house, dude."

"Stan, Kenny, keep your mouths shut before I send you to the dean."

Kenny rolled his eyes, earning a smile from Stan, and turned to face the front of the class. The whiteboard was riddled with strange markings and rhyme schemes and things Kenny just couldn't give a fuck about. Why was English so goddamned boring?

A crumpled sheet of paper landed square in the middle of Kenny's desk. Kenny couldn't help but think that Stan was way too athletic and precise for his own good as he smoothed out the paper on the flat surface of his notebook.

_'Bro time. you and me. tonite. promise not to bring wine coolers if you promise to leave you're condoms home.' _

Kenny snorted and scrawled back a quick _'that would be irresponsible on my part'_. He heard Stan try to stifle a laugh when the teacher gave them both imploring looks from her perch in the front of the room.

Kenny always loved hanging out with Stan. The times hadn't been bountiful growing up—Kyle and Cartman were sort of ever-present when they were kids, and to be honest it kind of put a damper on Kenny's fun. See, because Kyle's anxiety would've kept them from hopping the fence to their old elementary school in the first place, and Cartman's fat ass couldn't climb if it tried, it was kind of hard to have the kind of fun that Kenny and Stan had just to themselves. When you say "Hey Stan, wanna go get drunk on the school roof," the answer to that question will always be 'Fuck yes!'

* * *

"So—so the fuck what if I didn't get into Boulder?" Stan slurred as he took another pull off of the bottle of Jack Kenny had swiped from his dad. "Community college is just as fucking valid and way the fuck cheaper, you know?"

Kenny sat and watched his friend with mild concern. Stan was prone to bouts of emotion—that's just who he was, and in all honesty that's why Kenny had liked him so much in the first place—and it hadn't taken Kenny very long to realize that that's what Stan intended this night to be. He couldn't cry to Kyle or Cartman, and he didn't have Wendy anymore, so… There Kenny was, in all of his fourth-string glory. Suddenly, Kenny's feelings weren't as warm for the other boy as they'd been before.

"At least you're not studying dance like Shelley," Kenny offered. Stan snorted and gave a nod.

"Exactly," he sighed and took another swig. "You think it's weird that the only two people I've ever been involved with are way insanely smart? Like, way too smart to want to be with me?"

Kenny shrugged. He really didn't want to have this goddamned conversation now—all of his conversations had led to emotions lately, and Kenny wasn't good with those. He decided he'd try to lighten it up with his penchant for seducing cute blondes, but it didn't work.

"Fuck, I forgot that whiskey turns you into a morose piece of shit," Kenny sighed and stood. "Weren't we supposed to be having some fucking fun?" Stan just gave an uncomfortable shrug and hugged the bottle closer to his chest.

"I don't know if I—"

"Look, Stan," Kenny cut him off abruptly and crouched down beside him. "We may not be geniuses, okay? We may not be the future leaders of tomorrow, but you know what we are?"

Stan shook his head, eyes large in their sockets as though waiting for a profound answer. Kenny smiled his Cheshire cat smile and rested his forehead against Stan's.

"We're fucking fun," he said. "And that's a fuck of a lot more than I can say for Kyle or Wendy or even Butters, dude. If people like us didn't exist think how shitty and boring being alive would be. So let's go… light some shit on fire or tip some cows or _something_, 'cause you're bumming me the fuck out. My boyfriend's already in LA, dude… I don't need your shit dragging me down too and, frankly, neither do you. Let's. Go."

Stan gave one last forlorn look at the bottle and smirked.

"What'd you have in mind?"

Kenny fiddled in his pockets for only a moment before he procured a joint and a lighter. Stan beamed at him.

"We definitely need to hang out more often."

As they passed the joint back and forth, Kenny was becoming painfully aware of the fact that he hadn't eaten since lunch… yesterday.

"Dude, I'm fucking starving," he muttered. Stan nodded vigorously.

"Can we go get some, like, Del Taco or something?" he asked. Kenny shook his head. They'd have to drive for that, and while Kenny was a pretty good high driver, he had the distinct feeling that Kyle and/or Butters would kill him if they found out… and they always did. Maybe they were gypsies.

"Let's just go to the mini-mart," Kenny shrugged and put the joint out and back into his pocket. Stan nodded and the two made the careful trip down the side of the building and over the fence.

The mini-mart was as unpopulated as was usual for this time of night, only a few cars parked out in front. Probably a few late night beer runs or something. Once inside the store, Kenny made a mad dash for the pastries, while Stan busied himself with making nachos. Just as Kenny was about to fill his arms with twinkies, his phone began blaring an all-too familiar tone.

"Hey, I was just thinking about you," Kenny answered as he squished a twinkie in its wrapper.

"Shut up," Butters chided fondly on the other side of the line. God, it was like coming home to… warm apple pie or some shit. Kenny loved the sound of Butters' voice and wasn't ashamed. The fact that he'd cone so long without hearing it only amplified its effects. He was going to have to be extra careful about any unwanted hard-ons popping up around decent folk. He was in public, for God's sake, as Butters would have reminded him.

Wait, Butters was on the phone, wasn't he?

"Hey, baby!" he giggled and brought his bounty of cream-filled treats to the counter.

"Jesus, how high are you?" Butters asked, a smile coloring his voice.

"Just a tiny bit, I swear," Kenny answered as he paid the cashier. She handed him his bag—Christ, had he really grabbed that many?—and asked that he wait outside while his little friend finished.

Kenny stepped out into the cool night air and sat down on the cool concrete sidewalk. He opened up one of the spongy cakes and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Where are you?" Butters asked.

"I got twinkies," he mumbled through the mass in his mouth. He heard Butters laugh softly on the other end.

"All right, I'll leave you to it then," he replied. "I was going to see if you wanted to have phone sex or something, but I think I'll just send you something for later instead."

"Are you in the purple number I got you for our anniversary?" Kenny asked in his best haughty voice. "You know, the one with all the lace that lets me see your no-no places?" Butters snorted.

"Never call my dick a 'no-no place' again… ever," he said. "Love you,"

"You too, bug-a-boo," Kenny replied. Rhymes had much more appeal when he was high. Maybe the key to English class was being stoned? Kenny shrugged and set his phone on his lap, immediately going to work on his other little beauties. When Stan finally exited the store, he had possibly the most ridiculous thing of nachos Kenny had ever seen.

"Dude, what the fuck," Kenny breathed. "Let me in on that shit."

"Let's go back to my house. I don't wanna eat this in public," Stan murmured. Kenny shot right up and followed the intoxicating scent of fake cheese and chili. Butters, nachos, and twinkies? Life was fucking _good_, man. Nothing could touch him right now. He didn't even hesitate to wave at Cartman as he made his way for the mini-mart. Even though the guy was a sack of shit sometimes [most of the time], he deserved a nice happy greeting every once in a while, right? Right.

* * *

Kenny woke with the worst stomach ache he'd had in his life, face-down and half on top of Stan. Hostess products and cheap nachos were obviously a volatile combination and he was being punished for his youthful hubris. No more eating whatever he wanted—even if he could come back if he died, this pain was not worth it.

There was a puddle of drool on Stan's shirt where Kenny's mouth had rested. Well, at least they hadn't blacked out—at least, Kenny hadn't. And really, if Stan had, they'd probably be a lot more naked. Stan groaned and rolled over, away from Kenny.

"What time is it?" he grumbled. Kenny shrugged and glanced at the clock on Stan's wall.

"Eleven-thirty."

Kenny and Stan both started out of their stupors and practically into the other's arms. Kyle just rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

"It's like being in an episode of Scooby-Doo," he shook his head. "I'm pretty sure the Mystery Van reeked of stale nachos and weed too."

"Kyle, what the fuck are you doing in here?" Stan nearly shouted. Kyle snorted and nudged at a pile of dirty clothes with his foot.

"Your mom said you guys were up here," he shrugged. "I figured when neither of you answered your phones I should probably come look for you myself before I got the police involved."

"Yeah, okay Sheila," Kenny sighed and rolled off the bed. "You two go blow each other whatever, I've gotta piss like a motherfucker."

Kenny stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom, about to start in on what had to have been the wickedest piss he'd taken in at least the last twenty-four hours when he realized he'd been followed.

"Dude, did you get my text from last night?"

"Goddamn it, Kyle, can it wait?" Shy bladder syndrome was a bitch of a thing to have, especially with friends as intrusive as his.

"I just—"

"Nothing is so important that you can't let me take a fucking piss, dude," Kenny snapped and began tapping his foot. The moment he heard Kyle sigh and shut the door to Stan's room, Kenny let himself go. Few things in this world were so rewarding as a shiver-inducing pee. When he was all done, he zipped up his jeans and immediately made to grab his phone.

"Huh," he frowned when he realized his pockets were empty. He made his way back to Stan's room, carefully searching all the way, until he was back in Stan's bed amongst the blankets he'd nestled in the night before. Stan and Kyle, who had both until recently been hovering over Stan's computer, looked at him with raised brows.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Stan asked.

"Have either of you seen my phone?" Kenny scratched his head. That was the damndest thing…

"Where'd you have it last?" Kyle posed.

"Why the fuck does everyone always ask that?" Kenny shot back. "If I fucking knew, that's where I'd be looking." Stan just rolled his eyes and clapped Kenny on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, dude," he said. "We'll just retrace our steps from last night, and I'm sure it'll turn up."

"I used it last night…" Kenny scrunched his eyes shut and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't have the money to afford a new phone, and fuck if his parents would give him the money for one. Poor Karen had a model that dated back to sometime in the mid-90s and hadn't gotten a replacement since 2005.

"Well, let's just go look for it and hope it turns up, all right?" Stan suggested. Kenny looked over at Kyle, who was keeping suspiciously quiet about putting their faith in something so trivial as the power of positive thinking. Seriously, fuck the week their parents had all read The Secret in their goddamned book club or whatever the shit it was, and fuck the next week when Mrs. Broflovski loaned her copy to Kenny's mom in hopes that it would help her find the strength to lead them out of their squalor or whatever. What a bitch.

"The next time you two ask me why I don't do drugs, I want you to know this is why," Kyle instead opted to say. Stan rolled his eyes and grabbed Kyle by the shirt sleeve, effectively dragging him along on their crusade to find the missing phone.

* * *

Kenny picked up an extra shift at work that afternoon in anticipation of paying for a new phone. It wasn't so much that he minded working on a Saturday as it was that he didn't have a phone to distract him during the slower hours. He'd read about a dozen magazines by now, including Cosmo, just to see if they had any tips on welcome home fellatio (which, sure enough, they did), and was now itching for something, anything, to keep him occupied until five o'clock.

He sighed as a car pulled into the station. It really was a monotonous job when he really thought about it, but at least he got to deal with some pretty freaky people sometimes. That never failed to amuse. He found himself wondering who he'd have the joy of helping today.

Now, Kenny never really made it a point to avoid the parents of the people he fucked. It was a small town and avoidance bred suspicion. He knew he had a reputation, and yeah he'd been chased out of a few bedrooms in his time, but anything other than confidence in the face of adversity gave other people the power to treat you like shit… being Mysterion had taught him that.

Apparently none of that mattered when Butters' dad was around—that man scared the ever-loving shit out of him.

Call him a coward, call him a bleeding-heart pussy, either way there Kenny was, crouching behind the counter, praying to God that the Stotches were the kind of people that paid for gas with credit cards. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case, as Mr. Stotch was, as they say, headed right for him. Sweet Jesus, why with the torture? Aside from all the recent sodomy he'd been pretty good recently. This is what he got for covering shifts and being a kind soul? Well, just fuck it from now on.

"Dave? Dave, are you here?"

Fuck Dave for his 'time off'. Fuck Dave and his fat redneck ass for getting to sit at home and watch NASCAR with Cheeto dust all over his fingers, hooting and hollering 'til his heart gave out or some shit.

"Dave's off today, Mr. Stotch," Kenny emerged from behind the counter.

Mr. Stotch… oh, Mr. Stotch did not look himself. He had a distinct look of guilt on his face and the unmistakable stench of alcohol sweat permeating from his being. Kenny almost made a grab for a six-pack and one of the porn rags as a token of his well-wishings, but then remembered that he was not dealing with himself, so he just kind of coughed a little and looked at his feet.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked.

"Shouldn't-ah… shouldn't you be in school, young man?"

"It's Saturday, Mr. Stotch."

Fuck how awkward this was. Just fuck it.

"I-uh… I need thirty on pump two out there."

Kenny nodded and made to complete transaction, but paused for a moment before putting the cash in the register. He really had nothing to say to the man—the only thing they had in common was Butters, and what could Kenny really disclose on that front? _'Hey, Mr. Stotch, I sucked your son's cock between first and second periods the other day. How have you been?'—_he was obviously past the point of being okay to operate a vehicle. How he'd gotten to the station to begin with, Kenny didn't even want to ponder.

"No offense Mr. Stotch, but… I don't think I can let you drive until you sober up," Kenny said and moved the folding chair he kept behind the counter to the corner by the coffee machine. Mr. Stotch stumbled over and sat; Kenny had never had to deal with drunken parents other than his own… and the occasional Mr. Marsh, but that was different. Kenny poured a cup of coffee and shoved it into Mr. Stotch's hands. The older man carefully sipped at the hot liquid and smoothed out his askew tie.

"You and… you and Butters have been hanging out a lot, haven't you?"

_I in no way fucked your son's face in a broom closet the other day._

"Yup," Kenny managed to squeeze out, silently willing the man to sober up so he could leave and they never had to speak again.

"I think he really enjoys your company."

_Not as much as he enjoys eating his own cum off of my hand._

"Yup." Oh_ God_, please let this end.

"I know you're quite the… lady-killer, so I feel it's only fair to warn you that Butters may be developing an… an attraction to you. Physically, I mean."

"Oh," _fuck_, "um… thank you?"

"His mom doesn't know—I haven't had the heart to tell her," Mr. Stotch continued. "Anyway, he really looks up to you and if you could just help him get a little… push, just 'til he's playing back on your team, anyway. I'd really appreciate it."

Fuck-fuck-fuck. How the hell—_what_ the hell did Mr. Stotch know exactly? Obviously he didn't know about the two of them, but Butters… he was pretty careful about keeping his private life to himself. Other than his inherent 'obviousness', Kenny didn't see any reason why Butters' parents should suspect…

"Mr. Stotch," he began tentatively, "how do you know… how do you know that he's _attracted_ to me?"

"Oh, it's obvious," Mr. Stotch cried in the tradition of the great lushes of the past as he rooted around in his pocket. Kenny's heart was thumping so wildly that he might just keel over right there if he didn't calm down. Mr. Stotch procured a small object from his trouser pocket—a closer look revealed that it was indeed Kenny's phone.

"Mr. Stotch, where did you find this!" he exclaimed excitedly as he all but ripped the device from the older man's hands.

"My son sent you a message," was all Mr. Stotch seemed to be able to say.

Kenny furrowed his brow as he checked his text messages—one from Kyle, one from Clyde, and a picture from Butters. Kenny's face immediately flooded with color when he realized just what the picture was.

"Mr. Stotch, I—"

"Are you fucking my son?"

Oh, Kenny was so disinclined to reply to that question, honestly or not. Mr. Stotch, however, seemed content to keep the conversation alive and well. Jesus, was this why he'd been drinking so heavily at eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning?

"Sir, even if that was any of your business, I don't think drinking is going to help the situation."

Honestly, Kenny might as well have tattooed 'hypocrite' on his forehead and called it a day. Mr. Stotch just laughed… Kenny had a feeling he knew the answer to the question he'd just posed and just couldn't really bring himself to take it seriously. He instead laid a hand on his shoulder, looking entirely likely that he'd intended to say something more, but instead just decided now was a good time to vomit all down the front of Kenny's shirt.

"Fucking weak, dude!" he shouted. Why did God see fit to punish him for every goddamned good deed he did? He hoped Dave hadn't keeled over yet, because there were just some things Kenny couldn't do, and being covered in vomit at work was one of them.

Then suddenly his phone buzzed with a new message, one under the aptly labeled 'Fatass'.

_'Gee, Kenny, hope you found your phone all right :).'_

* * *

Butters was most certainly not on his forty-seventh game of solitaire in a row. What could he say? Life in LA, in the apartment of a middle-aged single woman, was really, really boring, and his parents had stopped paying for Netflix months ago, so… solitaire it was. He was actually on standby after having received a rather cryptic text from Kenny not two hours ago, and figured his phone should be ringing any minute; halfway through what-was-definitely-not-game-forty-eight, it finally did.

"About time," Butters greeted answered with a lazy smile.

"Hey," Kenny returned with affection. "So, I have a story for you."

"Yeah?" Butters asked. "Tell me."

"Butters, your dad knows about us," Kenny cut in very quickly. Butters shot up faster than a lightning bolt on the bed.

"What?" he asked very carefully.

"Because, like a dumbass, I dropped my phone after I talked to you last night and Cartman picked it up and gave it to your dad, who saw the picture you sent me. Guess what conclusions he jumped to."

"Fuck!" Butters shouted before he remembered that his aunt was just in the next room. When she failed to respond, Butters just assumed she was so into her DVRed episodes of the Daily Show that she couldn't really be bothered at the moment. Just as well.

"What in God's na-name did I ever do to him?" Butters wondered aloud. Meanwhile, Kenny was in the middle of a neurotic rampage. When had he absorbed that quality of Butters'?

"—and then he's probably going to threaten to keep you here or send you back to that stupid queer camp or whatever."

"Kenny, please calm down," Butters sighed.

"Oh, I'll calm the fuck down," Kenny assured him, "right after I beat that blood-belching vagina into the fucking ground."

"That's what he wants," Butters attempted to explain, yet again, the inner-workings of a sociopath. "Kenny, he wants to know that he upset us—that's why he eggs you on. He just likes fucking with people."

"Well I'm not gonna just let him get away with it!" Kenny practically shouted. Butters nodded.

"No, I agree," he hopped up and began pacing around the much-too floral room. "We've just gotta be sneaky about getting him back."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Kenny asked. "Your parents will probably keep you under lock and key when you get back."

"Not if my mom doesn't know," Butters reasoned. "If my dad's the only one who knows, he'll keep it a secret. I'm doing extra stuff for drama this week anyway, so afterward I can just go to your house and we can conspire there."

"Conspire?" Kenny asked, puzzled. Butters just grinned.

"Are you up for cooking up a little revenge?"

Butters could practically hear the beams radiating off of Kenny's smile as he said a simple "I fucking love you, Stotch."  
"By the way," he added, "I think you owe me marathon sex since your dad fucking puked all over me at work."

"What the fuck?" Butters grimaced.

"Oh yeah," Kenny added sardonically. "That was part of my day too. I'll leave you with that little gem while I just go bathe in some bleach. Talk to you later, babe."

"Do you enjoy ruining moments?" Butters asked as he sat back down on the flowery bedspread.

"Not as much as I enjoy not being covered in old-man puke… but not by much. Seriously though, it's a photo-finish."


	11. Chapter 11

**What ho?** Another chapter have we? Well, cursed be the man who dares wander the seven seas! Bless ye, for daring to read a salty old pirate's tales.

... Wow. I'm really sorry I make you guys put up with my shit (see above). You deserve so much more than what I give you.

* * *

Butters and Kenny supposed it all dated back to that one time in the fourth grade when they were diagnosed with sex addiction. While Kenny's may have been closer to a real diagnosis, Butters really _had_ just been fascinated by seeing a naked person—he'd never really seen one before that. It was one of the first times Kenny rethought his previous judgments of Butters and decided that he wasn't so bad after all, and now the thought of a bunch of wicked little things running through what everyone assumed was a pristinely innocent brain… it was enough to turn Kenny on like a fucking light switch. Meanwhile, Butters just knew that something about that diagnosis was connected with Kenny's requests to be choked while they fucked.

Yeah, the sex had been fantastic before Butters' trip to Los Angeles, and they both supposed they could live without it for the, what, three or four days he'd be gone? They hadn't expected it to be as surprisingly easy as it was. Wendy explained it to Butters as a sign of a mature relationship the night of his return home.

"Sane, healthy people shouldn't need to be around their significant other all the time," she said very coolly. Butters rolled his eyes at this, since Wendy was _obviously_ the expert on mature relationships, but couldn't help feeling a small glimmer of pride in the pit of his stomach. He was mature. He couldn't speak for Kenny, but he? He was mature, and it felt good.

Then, of course, it all shot to hell the second he saw Kenny standing in the doorway to his filthy house in his moth-eaten shirt and dingy boxers—he wasted no time by asking if anyone was home, by pushing him into the house away from spying neighbors, or by bothering to say a simple 'hey there, handsome'. Nope, instead Kenny McCormick found himself pinned to the flea-ridden carpet in his living room with his boyfriend's tongue shoved halfway down his throat—a scenario that went down on the list of things that would have been awesome if Karen hadn't been sitting on the couch eating toaster waffles at that same moment.

"Gross," she muttered, but kept her eyes on the TV. Butters didn't care, and apparently neither did Kenny. Obviously, they could handle being apart—it was the whole 'together' thing that was proving to be a distraction.

"Oh, my God, if you two are gonna fuck the least you could do is go in your room."

Butters felt Kenny break out into a smile and pull away. He was beaming… possibly may have been the happiest Butters had ever seen him, and it made Butters feel all warm and tingly on the inside.

"Missed you," Butters said softly. Kenny's smile broadened, if that was possible, as he wrapped his arms around Butters' neck.

"You too," he said. Butters bit his lip and pressed his lips against Kenny's again. Karen just sighed from her place on the couch and Frisbee-tossed her empty paper plate at Kenny's head.

"You two are _disgusting_," she snapped. Kenny rolled his eyes and moved to stand. Butters rolled off of him, making sure to close the front door before he stood and followed Kenny to his… room? Butters frowned as Kenny sat on the couch right next to his sister and gave her a complacent smile.

"Is it just because I'm getting laid and you're not, Baby K?" Kenny asked. Karen and Butters rolled their eyes simultaneously, but where Butters was about to suggest they go into the other room and jsut forget the whole thing, Karen had a different tactic.

"If you don't leave me alone in the next ten seconds, I'll tell mom and dad you're a fag," she said very simply. "And even if they're okay with that, I'll tell dad who it is you're fucking and that'll at least get him a little pissed off."

"Hey!" Butters exclaimed. "W-why am I such a-such a bad thing?" Karen just arched one of her ashy brown eyebrows and folded her arms.

"Look at you," she said. "You're a bitch."

"Fuck off, Karen," Kenny interjected before Butters could even come to his own defense. Karen gave that stupid teenage-girl huff—Jesus, Butters had never before been so happy to be gay—and gestured grandly in Butters' direction.

"He's got a baby face, he stammers, and he looks like he couldn't lift a pencil to save his life," she said. Butters took a deep breath and shut his eyes. He wasn't going to respond—he was _mature_ now. Kenny, on the other hand...

"He only stammers around you because you're a nasty bitch," Kenny defended, and Butters snorted. _Truth_. "Plus, he can take it up the ass like a champ and he's got a huge dick, so… I'm gonna go suck it now."

"Kenny, that's fucking gross!" Karen shouted and began hitting him. Butters, who was by now the brightest shade of red anyone could imagine, grabbed Kenny by the arm and pulled him into his room. He locked the door behind him and raised an eyebrow.

"Way to be an adult," he couldn't help his smirk. A ghost of a smile flitted across Kenny's handsome face and Butters had no choice but to attack it once more. They fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs, each trying to grasp at what they'd been so sorely missing over the last few days. _Fuck_, had it only been a few days?

"You gonna tell me about your trip?" Kenny breathed when they finally broke apart. Butters gave a laugh and ran his fingers through Kenny's hair.

"Gonna make good on your promise to suck my 'huge dick'?" he shot back. Kenny rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Probably shouldn't have said that to my younger sister, huh?"

"What're you complaining about?" Butters asked. "Now I have to live up to having a huge dick." It wasn't that Butters hadn't appreciated the praise, but there was really no reason to flat-out _lie_ about the whole thing. He was average and it suited him just fine, thank-you-very-much.

"Planning on flashing my sister anytime soon?" Kenny raised an eyebrow. Butters shut his eyes and rested his forehead on Kenny's, mostly because Kenny looked too similar to Karen when he raised his eyebrow like that and that was grade-A erection-killer if he'd ever seen it. Kenny, however, remained oblivious.

"Do you want me to?" Kenny asked softly. What? Why the fuck would Butters want Kenny to look like Ka… oh. He hadn't been saying that out loud. Right. Blow-jobs, cock-sucking... sexy things. Butters got back on track quickly; he pushed his lips against Kenny's and slipped inside, running his tongue along Kenny's bottom teeth—the crooked ones that his parents never had the money to fix—as he felt Kenny's hands fumble with the button and zipper on his pants. Hazy, everything was hazy as Kenny brushed over the rallying bulge in his underpants. Butters rolled over and pulled Kenny on top of him. If Kenny was going to make good on his promise, he may as well move into position. Kenny gave a laugh.

"Eager much?" he asked as he kept on stroking Butters. Meanwhile, Butters couldn't find it in himself to do much more than whimper, even when Kenny took his hands out of his pants and worked on removing his sweater.

"Too many layers," Kenny muttered, more to himself than to anyone in the real world, and let out a triumphant 'ha!' when the sweater and, afterward, the pale yellow t-shirt Butters had thrown on that morning. He sucked at Butters' neck, licking and nipping his way down the lithe form like a man possessed, obsessed with the human being below him. Butters had no problems with being worshipped from time to time, especially when worship so often involved Kenny's mouth on his skin.

Had Kenny not dawdled, he would've gotten Butters' pants off before the cell phone in that God foresaken pocket started buzzing.

"Don't answer it," Kenny mumbled into the skin just below Butters' navel. Butters grabbed the phone from his pocket and answered. After all, it could be something important, and if this was the call telling him that his house had burned down, then he sure as hell would be grateful he answered.

"Hello?"

"Butters, your mother needs milk—"

Butters yelped and threw the phone across the room. House not burning down-house fine, parents fine, dad on phone, dad knows about the gay... Jesus, was this how Tweek felt all the time? Kenny looked up, eyes wide as the device narrowly missed his head, and raised an eyebrow. Butters pointed at the phone and mouthed the word 'dad'. Kenny rolled his eyes and tossed the phone back into Butters' hands and mouthed a harsh 'talk to him'. Butters gulped and held the phone to his ear.

"D-dad?"

"Butters, what's going on there?"

"S-sorry," Butters sat up and automatically pulled a pillow over his lap. "Dr-dropped the phone. Uh, di-did you say that mom ne-needs milk?"

Kenny pulled the pillow from Butters' lap—his dad couldn't even see them, for God's sake—and sat beside him on the bed. Butters gave a few more short replies before bidding his dad a farewell and tossed the phone onto the bed behind him. He rubbed his hands over his face and flopped back against the bed, still partially unclothed, pants still wide open as he tried to get the images of his dad's face out of his head.

"I ca-can't even answer the phone without freaking out," he said softly. Kenny laid back and sighed.

"I could've killed Cartman," he said very plainly. "I could've beaten him to shit, but you didn't let me. And don't fucking lie to me and say 'that's what he would've wanted' because that's bullshit."

Butters groaned and zipped up his pants. Kenny had never heard a more depressing sound.

"It was more of a 'he's not worth prison' thing," Butters sighed and pulled on the nearest shirt he could find. "We have to get him back."

"Butters, he killed a kid's parents and _fed_ them to him," Kenny implored. "Dude, we can never piss him off again." Butters was up by now, pacing around the room in an attempt to find a solution to their problem. Kenny couldn't help but smile when he saw his ratty Black Sabbath shirt hanging off of Butters' pale frame.

"I have pictures," Butters said finally. "They're not too recent, but I'm willing to bet that we could catch him at something if we staked out—"

"Somehow I don't think humiliation would be enough," Kenny sighed. He wasn't very good at revenge—Cartman was the revenge kind of guy, and Butters had always been ready and willing, if a little shoddy in his executions. Maybe that was some sort of sadistic thing they had in common that had kept them friends for so long. Kenny was glad that Butters had wisened up, but damn. Him having something in common with Cartman was definitely unsettling, but Kenny tried to put it out of his mind for now.

"And anyway," hecontinued, "the only kid who's ever really been able to get to him was that Scott Tenorman kid, and that was totally because they're related."

"What?" Butters grimaced. Kenny rolled his eyes and looked at his water stained ceiling.

"Remember how Cartman's mom is a whore?" he said. "We found out in, like, the fourth grade that Scott Tenorman's dad was Cartman's dad. The only thing that's ever gotten to him was the fact that he killed his own dad and fed it to his brother. The kid's fucked up and now he's super protective of his mom since he thinks Scott Tenorman's gonna kill her or something."

"Wait," Butters said very suddenly. "What'd you say?"

Kenny held his hands up in defeat.

"I make no claims that I understand that guy's psychosis."

"No," Butters said very thoughtfully. Kenny propped himself up on his elbows and tried to keep his arousal at bay ashe watched the cogs turned in his boyfriend's head. Evil masterminds were sexy, make no mistake about it, especially when those blue eyes lit right up as he snapped his fingers and turned a wicked smile Kenny's way.

"I have an idea… but you've gotta hear me out."

* * *

"Babe, are you sure about this?"

"Sure as I've ever been."

They were in the backseat of Butters' car, tucked away in the back corner of the supermarket parking lot and anxiously awaiting the sight of their target. Kenny shifted in his seat and tried to remember why he let Butters talk him into things. It was that stupid, innocent face of his. Damn it, that thing was dangerous.

"Is she even here?"

"Trust me," Butters nodded from his side of the car, "Tuesdays are her shopping days. She wouldn't have changed that."

Kenny blew his bangs out of his face—he'd washed his hair for this, goddamnit—and looked at Butters. Something about him was different, changed by his time away maybe… He'd been tired of taking people's shit before, but now? Maybe Cartman had finally overstepped the insanely generous line Butters had drawn him over the years. The best thing about it? Butters got incredibly horny when he was planning out nefarious deeds. He'd also kept the Black Sabbath shirt from the day before (and most definitely not because they mistook the yellow one for a cum rag in their post-coital daze) and was looking way too handsome for his own good.

Kenny ducked when he saw the target enter the market; Butters nudged him.

"Now's our chance," he whispered, but backed off when he saw Kenny's face. "We… we can do something else if you're really uncomfortable with this. I won't be mad or nothin'."

Kenny shook his head—he'd agreed to do it. He wanted to get Cartman back just as badly and he would go to extreme ends to ensure that he suffered. He just shifted and grabbed one of Butters' hands in his.

"Tell me if you get pissed, okay?" he asked sincerely. "The second you want to call it off, we're done." Butters just smiled and kissed Kenny, sweet and full.

"I love you," he said when he pulled away. Kenny grinned.

"You too."

Butters seemed to take this as the correct answer to the question he hadn't bothered to ask and gave a curt nod. He grabbed a camera out of his bag, and with a final kiss crawled to the front seat. Kenny followed and soon both boys were in the market, searching each and every aisle for the familiar face.

"There she is," Butters whispered and hid behind the aisle divider. Kenny rolled his eyes. The snack food aisle—go fucking figure. He found his center, calmed his nerves, and started down the linoleum path.

"Mrs. Cartman, is that you?"

Mrs. Cartman had inexplicably retained a youthful glow about her, despite the fact that she had a nearly-adult son who was the biggest pain in the ass this side of the Rockies. Kenny took it as a reason to keep having sex as much as possible. Honestly, that had to have been what kept her hair so shiny and her skin so flawless. She was an attractive woman to be sure, but the fact that Cartman had once slithered from that womb? Kenny repressed a shudder.

"Kenny, I thought I recognized you," she said warmly, her brown eyes swimming with affection. "I hardly ever see you around the house anymore."

Kenny flashed one of his more heart-melting smiles and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.

"Eric's always so busy, I figure I shouldn't bother him," he said. He could already tell that the charm was working. It's how his dad had bagged his mom, it's how he'd gotten into the pants of half the girls in his class, and it was how he was going to get Mrs. Cartman to unwittingly enact revenge upon her son. She was already letting her eyes wander over Kenny's form, letting herself take in the young man's handsome face.

"I—I don't think I've ever seen you without your hood up," she choked on her own dormant lust. Kenny laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I figured I was getting a little old for that," he said. "Doesn't do much good for an eighteen-year-old to have his hood up all the time, right? People would think I'm up to no good," he finished with a wink. Mrs. Carmtan put a hand over her heart and gave a breathy smile.

"You… you've become quite the little charmer," she laughed. Kenny shrugged and flashed another smile.

"In all fairness, Mrs. Cartman, you're a gorgeous woman," he said. That was it. He was locked in for sure. Now all he had to do was wait a bit and come back in for the kill. With a final smile he said his goodbye and left the store with a bit of spring in his step. He waited out by Butters' car for about five minutes before the boy in question joined him.

"Get any good ones?" Kenny asked. Butters shrugged and flipped through the pictures on his digital camera.

"Those'll just be set-up," Butters said, "just in case we need more. If we actually get a video, I don't think we'll need these, but it can't hurt."

Kenny just laughed and rubbed his face.

"I can't believe I'm gonna do this," he said.

"We don't have to," Butters shrugged and looked at the pictures again. "Though, after what you said? I'm pretty sure she'll be coming after you whether we pussy out or not. Way to lay it on thick."

"What!" Kenny exclaimed. "She's gotta be pushing late-forties—she looks fantastic!"

"Would you have thought to fuck her on your own?" Butters asked, brow cocked in that totally attractive skeptical way as he moved to get into the drivers' seat. Kenny rolled his eyes.

"Maybe," he said as he climbed into the car. "I mean, it seems appropriate, doesn't it? Two generations of the town slut merging together as one? Could be a very serendipitous moment."

"Good word," Butters nodded as he started the car. Kenny was far from finished with his train of thought, though, and Butters should have known better than to let him keep on thinking without changing the subject. Kenny's brain was a dangerous place, as was evident by his next statement,

"How great would it be if I gave Cartman a little brother or sister!" Kenny pointed out excitedly. Butters automatically stuck out his tongue and retched.

"You're not allowed to talk anymore," he groaned.

"He'd be able to repress seeing a video of me fucking his mom, but a whole human being as the proof of our union? Ultimate revenge."

"So gross," Butters muttered.

"South Park's own little Kenny Cartman."

Butters finally turned the radio on and begged Kenny never to mention this conversation again.

* * *

When Mrs. Cartman was at work that Wednesday, Butters and Kenny found themselves scaling the side of the Cartman house, Butters with a suspicious familiarity that couldn't help but pique Kenny's curiosity. When Butters was in, he reached out a hand and pulled Kenny into Cartman's astonishingly tidy room. Cartman in question had been in Washington D.C. since Sunday for a Leaders of Tomorrow event or some shit and wouldn't be home until Saturday. Butters smiled as he looked around the familiar room from his childhood and made his way to Mrs. Cartman's room. Kenny, however, wasn't moving.

"You snuck in here pretty easily," he said. Butters rolled his eyes.

"Because I was his bitch until, like, the sixth grade," he reminded Kenny, who shrugged and ran his fingers along the neatly-made bed. Butters smirked and grabbed Kenny's hand.

"Jealous?" he asked. "I could sneak into your room too, if I had to."

Kenny rolled his eyes and pulled Butters into a kiss. Something about Butters' felonious side made his dick hard, and if he didn't get the fuck the shit out of something soon… Butters seemed to catch the hint and pulled them down onto Cartman's bed. It smelled like febreze, which led Kenny to believe that the fatass still had his mom cleaning his room. He deserved anything he got at this point.

"Hey," Butters said when Kenny pulled away and started working on his pants. "Hey, maybe we should take a picture of this and—ah!—and hide it under his pillow or something."

Kenny shook his head and licked at Butters' exposed hip.

"Then he'd get me arrested for child pornography and you for breaking and entering," he said softly and ran a finger along Butters' erection. Butters whined and gripped at the comforter.

"Ch-christ," he breathed. "You got any condoms?" Kenny rolled his eyes and grabbed a condom and a packet of lube out of his back pocket. Honestly, who did Butters think he was dealing with? They'd been together for, what, four months? And fucking for a good portion of that. Butters really should've known better.

"I anticipate sex with you at all times," Kenny explained and pulled Butters' jeans and underpants down as far as they'd go. Butters turned over, bent over the side of the bed, waiting, ready, willing… shit, Kenny's head was swimming. There had to be some law set in place against them conspiring together in the future, because nefarious deeds were leading them to fucking more and more often and _that_ was in turn making them inefficient in the revenge game.

Kenny thrust upward, empty foil packets scattered beside them, and Butters let out a grunt. His world was no more, everything was Kenny McCormick. If the sex hadn't been so fucking mind-boggling, he probably would've been scared to death. He liked to think that he was mature enough not to need constant contact with his significant other, but as Kenny's thrusts picked up speed, as he kept hitting that spot inside Butters with dizzying accuracy, Butters knew he was just kidding himself. He was addicted and so was Kenny, just how they'd told them they were nearly nine years ago.

In fact, Butters was so consumed by the mind-numbing pleasure pooling in his belly that he'd barely registered the opening and closing of a door downstairs. By the time he'd realized what this meant, Kenny had ceased his movements and, with a hand over Butters' mouth, pulled out and quickly finished him off with his hand. Any shouts or moans were muffled effectively by Kenny's hand, and when Butters had eventually regained thought Kenny was trying to straighten himself out in Cartman's mirror.

"Wh-what're you doing?" Butters panted, confused. Kenny crouched down and kissed him on the lips.

"I have an idea," he said, his voice low and husky with lust. Butters' dick gave an interested twitch, leading Butters to believe that his addiction was of the most serious kind. He... he wanted _more_, damn it.

"Did you finish?" he asked, despite the very obvious evidence straining against Kenny's jeans that said he hadn't. Kenny just grabbed the old backpack they'd brought with them and checked to make sure he had all the necessary supplies.

"Kenny," Butters continued with some trepidation. Why was he being so quiet? Kenny just smiled.

"Might as well just try now, right?" he asked. "She's probably the kind of lady who gets off on taping herself, so… why not?"

Butters only gave a hazy nod. He wasn't entirely sure of what was going on, only that he'd just shot an inordinate amount of cum onto Cartman's comforter and floor. Kenny was going to try to fuck Cartman's mom now then? Fine.

"Better make sure you've got clean hands, then," Butters pointed to a smudge of jizz on Kenny's hand. Kenny nodded and, without a second thought, licked it off himself, as he would have if it had been ketchup or a stray bit of sweet and sour sauce. Butters smiled—he enjoyed Kenny's depravity just a bit too much sometimes.

"Any other words of advice?" Kenny asked. Butters nodded.

"Condoms," he said. "You don't need to get herpes on top of everything else."

"Noted, Captain," he winked. "I'll text you later."

Butters nodded again and moved to pull up his pants. Kenny gave him one final kiss and set off to accomplish the task at hand. Butters figured he should've thought something wrong with himself. For God's sake, he just sent his boyfriend to fuck an older woman all in the name of revenge. He wasn't a psychiatrist, but he was pretty sure that this scenario didn't fall under the category of 'mature', and wiping his cum on various surfaces in Cartman's room probably considered downright childish, but he didn't really mind. Professor Chaos never considered his own maturity, only the suffering of his victims.

* * *

"Butters, where have you been?"

Butters rolled his eyes and shut the front door behind him. His dad wasn't even looking at him, just reading his paper and spouting off idle threats like he always did. He'd been particularly hard on Butters over the last couple of days, undoubtedly in an attempt to get him to admit that he was spending his time with Kenny and _not_ helping the Drama Club. Butters refused to budge.

"Where's mom?" he asked. Mr. Stotch looked up from his paper and raised an eyebrow.

"She went to the spa with a couple of her girlfriends," he said. "She said she'd be back late tonight."

Butters nodded and tossed his keys into the dish by the door. That meant that he'd be cooking, because his dad was a pathetic excuse for a gay man and couldn't manage to step foot in a kitchen without burning something.

"You didn't answer me," his dad said as Butters made his way for the kitchen.

"I-I told you I was helping Drama Club," Butters replied automatically. Like he was going to tell _anyone_ that he'd just gotten fucked in his enemy's bedroom (or that his boyfriend was fucking his enemy's mother as they spoke, for that matter), least of all his dad. He grabbed a few pans out of the cupboard and grabbed a pack of chicken out of the refrigerator, perfectly content to cook a meal without telling his dad to go fuck himself, only to find that his dad wasn't going to let this rest.

"Butters, don't do this," he said very firmly. "Now, I know I've made some mistakes in the past and that you've no doubt picked them up, but you can't do this. It's not fair."

"Not fair to who?" Butters asked, thoroughly confused as to his dad's line of logic. Fuck, Kenny's defiance had rubbed off on him in really terrible ways. What was worse is that there was no going back now—he and his dad were going to have this conversation and it was all because he couldn't stand being afraid anymore.

"I'm no-not pretending to be someone I'm not," Butters continued very calmly. "I-I'm not hurting anyone, so why-why should it matter?"

"It matters," his dad asserted, "because it's wrong."

"What's wrong about it?" Butters gave an incredulous laugh. "I'm not you, dad. I-I'm not gonna marry some perfectly nice, unsuspecting woman a-and have a kid with her. I'm gay, I know I'm gay, and you're just gonna have to deal with it. You and mom both are."

He wondered if this counted as coming out, even if his dad had already known. He'd count it, just because it was him finally being able to say it to his dad without peeing his pants with fear. He wouldn't have been able to do it six months ago, but maybe that was because something about Kenny made him brave, more willing to accept things about himself that he'd been afraid to accept before.

He was still kind of afraid to tell his mom, but he figured that would come in due time. Baby steps. Meanwhile, his dad, who had _known_, for God's sake, didn't seem to be taking it very well.

"Don't worry, son," he said a little manically. "We… yes, we can fix this."

"Don't think we can," Butters rolled his eyes and moved to leave the kitchen. He grabbed his keys and turned to face his dad once more. "A-and even if I could be 'fixed', I wouldn't want to be. I'm not a coward, dad… I-I'm not you."

Butters opened the door and headed out to his car. His gut was on fire with self-assertion. He'd stopped being a doormat, sure, but he'd never even considered having that conversation with his dad… and he'd just had it. Today was way too much for poor Butters' sensibilities. He started the car and headed to the only place he could conceive of being at that moment—away from all the shit that had unfurled in the last six months, where everything was suspended in a state of carefree happiness.

"Butters?"

"Hey, Dougie."

Dougie's house wasn't too far from Butters', but driving there at least gave him the option of leaving to a greater distance later. Dougie may have been fifteen, may have been kind of an asshole, but the second the words 'I came out to my dad' left his mouth, Dougie pulled him into a hug that only six-foot-tall doughy guys could give. He'd invited him inside, gotten him some water, and had even told his WoW buddies that he was signing off. He was an asshole, but he cared about Butters a hell of a lot, even if they hadn't hung out properly in months.

"I guess it's good that you told your dad," Dougie said as he scrubbed at some dishes. His parents, like Butters', had always kept him on a short leash when it came to chores. Butters figured it was why they got along so well—their parents were of the same brand and they'd both managed to turn out okay.

"He," Dougie turned to face Butters and pushed his coke bottle glasses up his nose, "your dad didn't hurt you, did he?"

Butters shook his head vigorously. Dougie breathed a sigh of relief and went back to washing. Butters supposed Dougie was just a little protective of him because he'd been his first older friend, the first kid who'd let him in on his playtime because he'd wanted to, not because he'd been forced to do.

"I don't really want to go back tonight," Butters said softly. "But I don't really want to go anywhere else."

"Stay here," Dougie shrugged. "My parents don't care. And it'll be like old times… minus the villainy."

Just then Butters' pocket buzzed with a text message. Nearly two hours after he'd left Kenny in the clutches of Mrs. Cartman, Butters received a text that simply read '_mission: accomplished'_. Butters smiled and tucked his phone in his pocket.

"Speaking of villainy, d'you wanna hear a story?"


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry to keep anyone who still cares a-waiting. I wanted to post something before my finals this week, because I undoubtedly will disappear for a while to get myself back in working order. There really is an end in sight for this story, I promise. It's 92 pages in my Microsoft Word, so... we'd better goddamned well hope that this leviathan is coming to an end.

That being said, if you're still around and reading, I appreciate it. Your support (and my unbridled obsession) keeps me writing and makes me want to finish this thing (which is saying a lot, since I never finish anything).

* * *

Kenny practically kept the Lonely Island's 'Motherlover' on constant replay for about three days. When asked if they could edit it into the video, Butters replied with a resounding 'no', and did so each of the sixteen times Kenny posed the question in slightly different ways.

"Does sex with women really make you this happy?" Butters asked over the music as Kenny began dancing around the messy, dirty room like the biggest dork that ever lived. Day-drinking did that to him, made him into a creature that couldn't be bothered to cease this horrible dancing (or with putting on a shirt, apparently). He simply pulled Butters to his feet and pushed their hips together. Butters rolled his eyes.

"Should I be worried about you?" he asked and pushed his hand against Kenny's forehead. "She didn't give you syphilis, did she?"

"No one has syphilis," Kenny groaned, smile still somehow on his lips as the song died out. Kenny raked his fingers over Butters' hairline and pulled him into a kiss. He'd been doing this a lot over the last week, and Butters was beginning to suspect that Kenny missed women more than he let on, and that he was trying to cover it up with extra affection.

And weed. There'd been a lot of weed over the last week.

"How should we show Cartman?" Kenny murmured against his lips. Butters shrugged and ran his hands over the sinewy chest he'd come to know so well.

"Next time he pisses us off, I'd expect," he returned softly. "Won't have to wait too long." Kenny laughed and licked at Butters' bottom lip.

"What am I going to do without you?" he asked, his voice the very epitome of affection. Butters rolled his eyes and gripped the hair at the base of Kenny's skull.

"Fuck Cartman's mom every chance you get, I'm sure," Butters grinned, only half-joking. Luckily, Kenny was in the mood where he only half-picked up on things and smiled back, pressing their foreheads together.

"Have you noticed how cheeky you've become in the last few months?"

"Have you noticed that no one ever says cheeky in the United States, like, ever?" Butters countered and tried not to smile when Kenny kissed him again.

"I watch a lot of Monty Python with Stan and Kyle," Kenny shrugged. "Blame it on them. Had to watch something after Terrance and Phillip went into syndication."

"So you watched a forty-year-old British sketch comedy show," Butters nodded, "makes so much sense." Kenny nipped at his lower lip.

"Asshole."

Kenny kissed him quick again before pouncing on the bed, back to Butters' laptop, and replaying that god forsaken song. Butters ran his hands over his face and counted to ten.

"Do-do you think we could play a different song maybe?" he asked, his voice high with restraint. Kenny gave a nod and typed something into the youtube search. Butters was pretty sure he'd kill something the second 'I Just Had Sex' hit his ears.

"God, did you really like it that fucking much?" Butters shouted without even thinking. Kenny looked taken aback, blue eyes wide as he moved to pause the song without even looking down at the screen. He then smiled, because smiling was the only thing Kenny seemed to be able to do this week, and folded his arms.

"Are you jealous of Cartman's mom?" he asked, amused. Butters tossed his bangs out of his line of vision—shit, he needed a haircut—and held a firm stance. He'd given Kenny too much, and when you gave Kenny too much he could break you if he wanted to. Kenny, however, just laughed and shut the laptop lid.

"Didn't I say I'd stop if you asked me to?" he asked. Butters, yet again, rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but that was before I knew it'd turn you into a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl," he snapped. "If I knew fucking—"

"A woman?" Kenny finished, fire behind his eyes now as he stood. "What part of bisexual do you have a hard time understanding?"

"Don't turn this into that," Butters groaned. "It's Cartman's mom and it's gross."

"It's not that," Kenny said very firmly, closing in on Butters like a lion stalking prey. Butters hated Kenny like this, hated that he knew intimate details Butters had never divulged, hated that he was pretty much a fucking mind-reader because he was too goddamned perceptive for anyone's good. By the time Kenny had him backed against the door, Butters knew he should've just kept his mouth shut and listened to the song.

"What's wrong, Leopold," Kenny goaded lowly. "Pissed off that you haven't turned me into a full-blown cock-sucking queer?"

"I-I think you've done a ba-bang-up job of that yourself," Butters muttered softly, halfheartedly. Kenny had him pinned now, that feral smile in place as he leaned in close to the shell of Butters' ear and licked.

"Can't stand that I love tits, can you?"

"Stop it," Butters warned softly.

"And forget tits," Kenny began, as though he hadn't mused on the topic in a good long while, "what about pussy? Now, I know you don't like women, but slipping in? There's nothing like it in the goddamned world. So fucking tight and wet and hot—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Butters shouted now. Suddenly he fully understood why Kenny's mom hit his dad so often—tipsy McCormick men could be the most infuriating creatures on the planet.

"And I know you love getting fucked, but fucking someone—"

"Hey," Butters interjected, "I fu-fucked you once and I could do it again. You were pretty smashed, but I doubt you could forget how hard you begged me for more."

"Mm, irrelevant," Kenny decided and licked along Butters' bottom lip. "I'm just trying to say that nothing compares to a hot, tight pussy." Butters felt fire erupt in his core.

"Well, maybe you should just go out and get some more," he said very plainly. "Don't let me stop you."

"Trust me, I haven't."

Butters didn't even care that it was a lie—because he knew it is no matter how cocksure and horny Kenny was, he'd actually done a remarkable job of keeping his dick to himself and Butters—but that didn't make it sting any less, and it definitely didn't keep Butters from pushing Kenny roughly away from him, sending him toppling over mounds of dirty clothes and crusty old porn rags.

"Butters, what the fuck?" Kenny shouted as he clutched the back of his head. He'd hit it on the bed frame when he'd fallen; Butters figured he was fine. Kenny was just trying to exploit the fact that Butters would break down if he was hurt, and Butters knew it. That was the thing about them—they knew each other too well now. Butters crouched beside Kenny and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Maybe a woman with a ti-tight, hot pussy wouldn't have done that to you," he said, his voice low as he shoved Kenny's head away. He grabbed his computer, stuffed it in his bag, and left Kenny with a bump on the head and a bruised ego. If he'd stuck around a second longer, or bothered to go back when he realized he'd forgotten his video camera, he would've seen Kenny in the same place he'd left him, fat tears running out of his bloodshot eyes and down his cheeks, waiting for Butters to come back and hold him, to tell him everything would be okay. If Butters had had half a mind, that's exactly what he would've done.

But that was the thing—when he was pissed off, he didn't even have half a mind to spare. When he was pissed off, he did things like try to destroy the world or make the innocent suffer. In this particular case, his clouded judgment had led to his return home for the first time in almost four days, completely unprepared for the barrage of verbal abuse ready at the tip of his father's tongue, for the open sobs and proclamations of love from his mother.

Instead of allowing himself to apologize to his parents, Butters just trudged up to his room, locked the door behind him, and shouted into his pillow.

* * *

The thing about getting into a fight the day before you returned to school was that… fuck, it was that it was just plain awkward. At least, it was when both parties showed up at school the next day. Butters seemed to be the one committed to his education out of the two of them (surprise, surprise), and for a while it didn't faze him at all.

"Well, well, Butters," came Cartman's imperious voice from behind him. "I haven't seen your little butt-buddy all day. Wonder where he could be." Butters rolled his eyes.

"Maybe you should ask your mom," he snapped and stalked off down the hallway.

* * *

Butters hadn't gone down to dinner in four days, hadn't seen or heard from Kenny in just as long, and the only way he could conceive of getting through it was by burying himself in his schoolwork. Fortunately, he could blame his behavior on his AP exams, at least where his parents were concerned. People like Wendy and Bebe, like Stan and Kyle and even Cartman, knew what was going on, but left him to his own devices of comfort. It hadn't been for a lack of trying on Wendy's and Bebe's parts—the fact that he was about as responsive as a dead cat was what kept driving people away. He didn't really care. He'd shoved Kenny, just like Kenny's parents shoved each other, like he knew they had shoved him, and Kenny had_...fuck_, he'd trusted him not to do that_._ As far as Butters was concerned, he was a despicable human being who deserved the solitary lifestyle of a monk—no talk, no food, no sex. Just him and books.

Being that he was face down on his bed without a book in sight, he figured it was probably pretty easy for his mom to call him on his bullshit studying excuses. That didn't make him resent her any less for it.

"Well, if you're not studying I don't know why you can't come down for dinner," she said very pointedly. Butters hugged his pillow close to his chest, staring out the window in absolute determination. He wasn't going to cry. Why would he cry? His mom had just spoken to him very frankly, that was all. She wasn't mad, she wasn't shouting, she was just trying to get him to eat. That was it. _Fuck_, why was he crying?

"Butters, what on earth?"

Butters felt a hand on his shoulder roughly turn him onto his back. He hid his face in the pillow and hoped his mom would take the hint. It was a valiant effort on Butters' part, but his mom finally succeeded in wrenching the pillow away from his face. He kept his eyes screwed shut, not wanting to see the sickening sympathy on his mom's face that was surely there because she sat beside him on the bad and began rubbing soothing circles on his stomach.

"Sweetheart, please talk to me," she pleaded softly. "What's wrong?"

Butters opened his eyes, only just now daring to make eye contact, and shook his head slightly.

"I do-don't think I can tell you," he said. Too much would come out. He could barely keep it in as it was, but if she actually pulled him into a conversation? Forget it. His mom, however, just shook her head and held out her arms, beckoning him close for a hug. Any other boy his age would've rolled his eyes and turned away, but not Butters. He shot up and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume and choked out a sob.

"Honey…"

"Mo-mom, I sho-shoved Kenny."

"Oh… is that it? Honey, boys do that to each other all the time, don't they?"

"Bu-but we're not—he's—we're not—"

"Butters?"

"Mom, he's m-my b-b-boy," he took a breath, "b-b-boy-boyf—f-_fuck!_" Butters shouted and flopped back against the bed. His mom took to rubbing his stomach again, whispering quiet mantras of 'just breathe' like she had when Butters had first started stammering not thirteen years before. Usually those episodes had ended with Butters fast asleep, but now? Now Butters actually had something to say, instead of just trying to spit out the names of colors or the days of the week. He took a few shaky breaths and sat back up.

"Kenny's my boyfriend, mom," he said softly, steadily. "I-I'm gay."

Considering he'd been expecting her to repeat her attempts to drive him into the river, Butters hadn't been expecting such an enveloping hug. He hadn't entirely ruled out the possibility of murder, but her craziness was at least getting a little more loving if that was going to be the case.

"I love you, sweetheart," she whispered. "Never forget that." She wiped her eyes and stood. It wasn't exactly a comforting sentiment, given her lacking track record with sanity, but she'd promised to bring him dinner without bugging him to come down until he was ready. Maybe she was working toward thinking about accepting it? Most likely she was just trying to keep him up here for as long as possible to put off the whole 'dealing with it' thing.

He sat up. He'd just come out to his mom. Holy fucking shit, he'd just _come out_ to his _mom_. He scrambled over to the window and peeked out through the blinds to see that the sky was, indeed, still in place, that the air was delightfully pig-free, and that a hole in the ground hadn't opened up to swallow him down to Hell. He-he was okay… mostly. He sprung up from his bed and ran downstairs, happier than ever that tonight was one of those nights his dad was out doing his… thing. He ran into the kitchen, where his mom was putting some green beans on a plate, and smiled. His mom looked up, surprised.

"Honey, I would've brought it to you," she said and instead set the plate on the table. Butters couldn't keep stop smiling.

"I'm gay!" he exclaimed. His mom looked a little like she wasn't sure what was going on.

"I'm aware," she said. "You just told me." Butters just let out a little noise of glee and went to hug her harder than he'd ever hugged anyone in his life. He even picked her up and twirled her around once ("Leopold Stephen Stotch, you put me down this _instant_!") before pushing a kiss to her cheek and saying it again.

"I'm gay," he proclaimed through the biggest smile he'd ever smiled. His mother rolled her eyes and grabbed some silverware out of the appropriate drawer and set the table accordingly.

"Are you going to eat or not?" she asked.

"You're not mad," Butters continued. She rolled her eyes.

"I won't be if you sit your butt down and eat," she said as she began making up a plate for herself. "Why don't you tell me about what's got you so upset?"

Butters had never felt better about sitting at that table in his life.

* * *

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"You haven't been to school in a week; I'm making sure you're not dead."

Kenny didn't bother making the biting _'would you really notice if I was?'_ on the tip of his tongue as he allowed Kyle into his house. Karen was out on a date with some guy that was too old for her, his parents weren't due home until later that night… it was actually pretty lonesome in the house when he thought about it, but Kyle wasn't the person Kenny would've exactly thought to ask for company.

Kenny rarely saw Kyle out of the context of Stan and so tended to forget that he was someone outside of their relationship, yet there he was on Kenny's couch, legs crossed and arms folded looking as though such filth and squalor was physically painful to him. He seemed to push all of this out of his mind, though, and turned to Kenny.

"So… how are things?" he asked. Kyle was anything but a graceful conversationalist—it was one of those things no one ever really noticed because Stan was always around to pick up the slack. Kyle seemed to catch onto Kenny's thought process and rolled his eyes.

"Dude, you haven't been at school for a week, what the fuck's up?"

Kenny just sighed and leaned on the front door. He was very close to telling Kyle to fuck off, but he'd made an effort to come and find out and… well, that was something, wasn't it? He took a seat next to Kyle on the couch and ran a hand through his hair.

"Where's Stan?"

"Shelly's final dance competition," Kyle supplied half-heartedly. "We're still 'not-dating' so it doesn't make much sense for me to go… especially since she and I got into a fight around Christmastime."

"Neat," Kenny clipped out. Kyle sighed.

"Are you actually going to tell me what's wrong, or are you going to spend the afternoon being a shithead?"

"Fuck off," Kenny grumbled and sunk into the worn cushions. He took a breath when Kyle made it very clear that the conversation would only pick up if Kenny started talking, and, well, started talking.

"I just don't want to see Butters right now," he supplied.

"The fact that he's your boyfriend only raises more questions, so I'm going to need you to elaborate."

Kyle wasn't impressed when Kenny whined and kicked pathetically at a stack of beer cans by his feet.

"He shoved me," Kenny said, his voice very strained. Kyle just raised an eyebrow.

"Stan and I shove each other all the time," he said, unsure of where all this was going.

"No," Kenny sighed in exasperation, "it wasn't like that. He, like… shoved me to the ground."

"Butters?" Kyle asked as both of his eyebrows flew into his hairline. Kenny nodded and brought his knees to his chest. Kyle put on that face he only reserved for math problems and particularly complicated debate topics and folded his arms. "What'd you do?"

"What did _I_ do?" Kenny shot back. What the fuck? Like everything was his fault all of a sudden? Butters had pushed him, goddamn it!

"Butters isn't the type of person who just goes around shoving people for no reason," Kyle said, "and you're not the kind of guy who can't handle a little rough-housing, so what's going on? Were you being an asshole?"

"What!" Kenny exclaimed, ready to defend his honor until he saw Kyle's scrutinizing glare. He faltered just a little bit.

"Kenny," Kyle elaborated again when he didn't get an answer, "were you being an asshole?"

Kenny sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Kind of."

Kyle waited patiently for the whole story, which only made Kenny want to punch him in the mouth. He had to start at the beginning, but what the hell was the beginning at this point? He traced it back and finally spoke.

"Remember when I lost my phone?"

"Yeah," Kyle nodded, confused.

"Well, long story short, Cartman found it and kind of used it to out me and Butters to Mr. Stotch."

"That fat fuck!" Kyle shouted. If there was anything Kenny could count on, it was Kyle's hatred of Cartman.

"Right," he said, "so Butters and I—well, Butters really—decides that we need to take revenge on him so I end up sleeping with his mom and I guess I didn't really expect how much I missed sleeping with women because I was super high afterward and I guess he got pissed off and—"

"You did not fucking sleep with Cartman's mom, Kenny," Kyle rolled his eyes. Kenny held up a finger as he got to the ground, rooting around underneath the couch until he found the camera Butters had left behind. He replayed what he had for Kyle, who looked very much like he was going to vomit if Kenny kept the video going.

"Dude!" he shouted. Kenny nodded and put the camera back in its rightful place.

"It happened," he confirmed. Kyle nodded vaguely before looking Kenny in the eye.

"You fucked his mom… for revenge."

"Yes."

"He's gonna be so pissed."

"It's gonna be fucking great," Kenny agreed as Kyle put his hand up in the unmistakable high-five position.

"So Butters got pissed, why? Wasn't it his idea?"

"He got pissed because I guess I was super happy for too long after sleeping with her," Kenny shrugged as he recalled the details of that afternoon. He neglected to mention the excess of Lonely Island songs and just moved right into, "I guess I'd been drinking a bit. He got mad about how happy I was and… I may have told him about how great fucking women was."

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, I may have actually used the phrase 'hot, tight pussy' a few too many times," Kenny admitted under the gaze. "Don't look at me like that! She's been the goddamned town jizz jar since we were kids, why wouldn't anyone think she's fucking fantastic at what she does?" Kyle nodded through a grimace.

"Well, that'll do it," he agreed with an unspoken statement. "If Stan ever even mentioned anything about Wendy's twat I'd no doubt punch him in the eye… after I puked all over the place, mind you. You're lucky all he did was shove you."

Kenny frowned and sat with his back against the bottom of the couch, just beside Kyle's legs. He didn't like thinking about it, and yet that's all his brain seemed to be able to dwell on for the last week.

"Dude, did it really upset you that much?" Kyle asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"It's… it's just how my parents started out," Kenny replied softly. "It's one of the first things I remember. My dad shoved my mom into the coffee table when I was, like, four. Then she started shoving back, and that led to hitting each other, then me and Kevin, and—"

The words caught in Kenny's throat when Kyle slid off the couch beside him and slipped his arms around his shoulders. Kyle was warm, like a furnace, and for such a tall, skinny guy, Kenny had to wonder just how that was possible. Maybe his hair stored heat like a camel's humps stored water or something.

"You're not your parents, dude," Kyle's voice flooded the silence. "None of us are. You think Stan would be around still if I was like my mom or dad? And can you imagine what a shit show it would be if Stan was anything like his dad? We've all got our shit, but the least you should be worried about is Butters being an abusive asshole."

"I know," Kenny choked on the words. Kyle's uncharacteristic physical show of affection, coupled with the look Butters had in his eyes just before he'd left…

"Are you crying?"

"Fuck off!" Kenny tried to scramble out of Kyle's grip, but Kyle laughed and wouldn't let him go.

"It's okay, dude," he said through his smile. "You don't do it enough—I think you're entitled."

"You don't cry," Kenny pointed out very levelly, if not just a little stuffy because of those stupid tears that were steadily streaming out of his eyes.

"Not around you," Kyle snorted and tightened his already vise-like grip on Kenny's shoulders. "You're gonna be okay, dude."

"Says you," Kenny gave a laugh. "Aren't you going off to be a genius somewhere else? You at least get to leave."

"True," Kyle conceded and loosened his hug just a bit. "You'll keep an eye on Stan, right?"

"Like he'd fuck around on you," Kenny snorted and didn't bother adding _'the bleeding-heart pussy'_ as an afterthought.

"I meant make sure he doesn't get too morose by himself," Kyle clarified and finally let go of the hug altogether, for which Kenny was grateful. Kyle rubbed his hands on his pants and sighed. "And promise me you'll eventually get out of here."

Kenny's heart stilled for half a second. No one had ever said those words to him, most likely because they probably felt they'd be wasted on him, but Kyle just… Kenny looked over at him and cocked his head. Kyle gave and embarrassed laugh and pulled his knees to his chest.

"Remember how our dads used to be friends?" he asked. Kenny nodded, prompting Kyle to continue. "It's just—your dad always resented mine for going off and making something of himself, right? And mine always resented yours for not wanting to do anything with himself. I just—I don't want that to happen to us. You're smart, Kenny… and I don't think anyone's ever really told you that before. And dude, I was in the art room the other day to see if you were there, and I saw some of your sketches in the back… you're really good."

Kenny felt a blush creep up the back of his neck and over his cheeks and immediately he hoped Kyle wouldn't notice. He didn't blush, just like he didn't cry.

"And, if you worked hard, and I know you do already," Kyle continued, "you could go on to art school after community college or something. Like, a really good one. There's CalArts in LA, or you could go to New York or wherever suffering artists go—"

"You think so?" Kenny interrupted, finally finding his voice. Kyle nodded emphatically.

"I wouldn't bullshit you," he said. True—polite bullshit was Stan's area of expertise. "Kenny, you're good. You have so much potential, and I'd be a shitty friend if I didn't tell you to use it."

Kenny, in a delirious show of affection, threw his arms around Kyle's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. Kyle seemed to accept the moment for what it was for about a second and a half before he threw Kenny off of him and made the mistake of saying he was 'gay, but not that gay.'

"Like you wouldn't fuck me if you had the chance," Kenny grinned as Kyle shifted back up onto the couch, obviously done with heartfelt conversations for the next ten years.

"If Stan was dead and no other women or men could slake my lust, maybe," Kyle snorted and then looked down at Kenny, sprawled out haphazardly on the floor, and cocked an eyebrow. "Would you fuck me?"

"Well, after this little heart-to-heart, it's the least I could do," Kenny grinned. Kyle rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

"What about Stan?" he asked before he could stop himself. Kenny didn't even need the picture of Stan biting his lip and writhing beneath him before he gave a rather licentious grin.

"Oh, in a fucking heartbeat," he replied. "In fact, if I could get the two of you into bed, I'd be golden." Which Kenny didn't bother telling Kyle was a lie, because the thought of them together still kind of made him a little queasy, but he did delight a little too much in Kyle hurling an empty beer can at his stomach.

The rest of the night went something like that, enjoying each other's company even when Karen came home lust-addled and very obviously fucked-out after her date, even when Kenny's dad came home and eyed Kyle warily. Kyle spent the night, which he hadn't done since the third grade and the ooky-mouth/chicken pox incident. Just before he drifted off to sleep, Kenny could've sworn he heard Butters' voice in the back of his head, saying his name like it was him rather than Kyle breathing softly on the other side of the bed.

Kenny reached over the mass that was Kyle and grabbed his phone off of his bedside table. Sure enough, there was a text from Butters that simply read _'miss you'_, time stamped all but a minute before. Kenny rotated the phone in his fingers a few times before smiling and punching in a reply.

_'starks pond tmrw at 12?'_

Kyle shifted under Kenny's weight and groaned out a grumpy complaint before Kenny could see the smiley faced reply.


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, kids- a little unexpected, but this is, indeed, the** last chapter**. I fought this chapter tooth and nail, rewrote it about three times, and this is what I ended up with. I'm not good with endings, but I'm at least satisfied with what came out of the last, like, three weeks of grappling with this beast. I hope you're at least a little satisfied with it too. **Epilogue** still to come, so... there's that.

Once again, thanks for the **reviews**. To all of you, whoever you are, you seriously have kept me wanting to write more, not just for this story, but for the rest of the fandom. I count myself a lucky author to have such kind, cool, and supportive readers. I really do adore you all.

* * *

Butters knew it wouldn't be one of those lovey-dovey reunions. There would be no grand orchestra playing as they ran across a field toward each other, there probably wouldn't be any hushed 'I love you's as a downpour soaked them to the bone, and there definitely would be no fairy-lit gardens, nor any fantastical settings of any kind. This was real life and Butters had long since believed in things like storybook reconciliation. They'd see each other, apologize, and possibly go back to Kenny's place so they could fuck like jackrabbits in heat.

"Hey."

Butters yelped and jumped nearly a foot in the air as he whipped around. Kenny stood a few feet behind him, smiling as he ran his hands through his hair. He was a bit paler and thinner than he'd been the week before. Then again, judging by the look on the taller boy's face, Butters doubted he looked any better.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Kenny bowed his head and gave a breathy laugh. Butters knew that laugh-Kenny was too full of emotion for his conservative Irish Catholic upbringing to handle, and when he didn't know how to handle something he laughed. Butterstook a step forward, reaching out to touch Kenny's shoulder and prompted him with no more than a squeeze to look up and meet his eyes. Kenny just gulped.

"I've got issues," he admitted and chanced a look up. "Next time I take them out on you just… give me a little slap and remind me who's boss or something." Butters rolled his eyes and pulled Kenny into a hug.

"Are you kidding?" he said, way too ridiculously happy just to have Kenny close to him again. "I've felt like shit all week for what I did to you."

"Come on," Kenny pulled away, his voice determined to be free of any and all vulnerability. "You barely touched me. Like I said, I've got issues."

"Yeah, and I'm the most well-adjusted person in the world," Butters gave a laugh. "Kenny, I knew I'd upset you the second I'd done it and I…" he took a shaky breath "I-I wanted you to feel it."

"Because I was being a dick," Kenny explained. "Butters, the whole thing is my fault."

"No, it's not," Butters shook his head and sat down on the bench beside them. "I can't go anywhere o-or do anything without messing up people's lives."

"This'll be interesting," Kenny sighed as he sat down beside Butters.

"Your life, my life, my parents' lives… hell, I even messed up Bebe's life," Butters sniffed.

"How did you mess up my life exactly?" Kenny asked and folded his arms.

"If we hadn't started, y'know," Butters gestured between them, "_this_, you'd… you'd still be sleeping with girls, you-you wouldn't have had to go through all this crap, you'd still be happy—"

"Whoa, who said I'm not happy?" Kenny asked. "Sure, this week was shitty, but if I was unhappy I would've fucked off a long time ago. And as I recall, I'm the one who started flirting with you, so if the fucking up of my life is anyone's fault, it's mine."

"God, see?" Butters cried. "You're _good_. You're good and you always have been. All you e-ever want to do is help people a-and make them feel better. I'm not like that; I'm bad. I-I'm bad and I'll only ever be bad."

"Bad?" Kenny was laughing. Why was he laughing? "Butters, you're not _bad_. Just because your parents spent the better part of your life convincing you you're a fuck-up doesn't mean you have to listen to them. So," he stood and held out a hand. "We both fucked up, we're both sorry, we both forgive each other, right?"

Butters nodded, weight suddenly gone fom his shoulders, and took hold of Kenny's hand. Kenny hauled him up and into an embrace.

"Glad we cleared that up," he said and kissed Butters on the cheek. "Now, I'm done feeling like shit. How about you?"

Butters nodded, "Done feeling like shit."

"Good," Kenny nodded and raked his fingers through Butters' hair. "Stan and Kyle are playing basketball over in the park and I kind of feel like kicking their asses. You in?"

"Sure," Butters laughed and shrugged. "Gotta take care of something first, though."

"Well, it's not like they're gonna be there all da—"

Butters cut him off with a kiss, slow and sweet and _Jesus_, Butters had missed this. All of this. Kenny's hands on the back of his neck, thumbs running over his jaw, the faint taste of smoke on Kenny's tongue, just the warmth of his body so close… Kenny pulled away first, breath shallow and eyes dazed.

"Yeah, they can probably wait," he nodded and went back in for more.

* * *

"Well, well, if it isn't the queen faggots."

"You didn't say Cartman would be here," Kenny muttered to Kyle once he and Butters arrived at the park.

"Didn't know he would be here; he's stalking us or some shit," Kyle rolled his eyes. "Did you and Butters talk?"

"Yeah," Kenny shrugged as he watched Stan reintroduce Butters to the rules of the court. "You and Stan fuck?"

"I left you with Butters like an hour ago," Kyle quirked an eyebrow.

"So… yes?"

"Twice," Kyle nodded and bumped the fist Kenny had extended to him.

"Hey assholes," Cartman interjected. "I'm not playing two on three, so someone has to sit out."

"I'm going to guess that you've somehow used logic to conclude that it shouldn't be you," Kyle sighed as he bent over to tie his shoe.

"Well, I'm not really much of a player," Butters shrugged. "I suppose I could sub or something."

"Fine," Stan sighed. "Cartman, you and I will go against Kenny and Kyle."

Butters sat on the bench beside the court as the four boys began their game. It wasn't the most exciting thing Butters could've thought to do on an afternoon like this, but then again he'd just spent the better part of said afternoon dry humping his boyfriend on a bench at Stark's Pond and was more than a little disappointed that he didn't get to keep going. However, the game wasn't without its entertainment, the most amusing part being Kenny trying to cover Cartman without getting too close to him (for fear of being bumped or trampled by the girth of him), followed by Stan and Kyle trying to cover each other without one throwing the other down on the tarmac and ravishing him right there.

Stan and Cartman were up by four, which Cartman seemed to take as grounds to gloat.

"We're playing to thirty, asshole," Kenny reminded him, short of breath. Butters really had to talk to him about not smoking anymore.

"Maybe if you'd stop eye-fucking your boyfriend over on the bench you'd be able to get some decent play in," Cartman shrugged and started taking free throws while Kyle escaped for a quick drink of water.

"Jealous that no one's eye-fucking you, fat boy?" Kenny asked innocently. "Or maybe it's because your mom still gets more action than you in one week than you do all year."

"Ay, shut the fuck up about my mom!" Cartman shouted. Butters saw the light go on behind Kenny's eyes. Oh, this wasn't going to end well.

"What would you say your mom is, anyway?" Kenny asked contemplatively as Cartman took a shot. "34 D?"

"Ay!"

"You're right," Kenny conceded. "Double-D. Wouldn't want to insult the woman and her God-given assets."

"Shut the fuck up, poor boy!"

"Kenny, seriously," Stan nodded. "It's kind of gross."

"I'm just saying," Kenny shrugged. "If she's still fucking around as much as she is, she's gotta be good."

Cartman steeled himself against a response and just dribbled the ball, and prepared to make a shot.

"Probably not as tight as she used to be—"

In one fluid motion, Cartman threw down the ball and socked Kenny right in the eye. They were full-on fighting before anyone could even blink. Butters leapt up from the bench to intervene, but Stan was already between them with a tired look on his face.

"How many goddamned times do I have to do this?" he shouted. "Get the fuck over whatever this is because I'm sick of you two kicking each other's asses for no fucking reason. Grow up."

Butters moved immediately to Kenny, who was clutching at his eye and looking a little smug.

"Really?" Butters asked, trying to berate Kenny into at least a little humility as he inspected his face. "Sweet baby Jesus, he split your lip clean in half."

"Yeah, I'm thinking we never show Cartman what I did… like, ever," Kenny muttered, making sure Cartman was otherwise occupied. Indeed, Cartman was getting a stern talking-to from Stan, looking a little like he was about to pounce on Kenny at any moment and beat him all to shit.

"I think that's a heinously good idea," Butters nodded and started leading Kenny away toward his house. "Fellas, we're gonna head out."

"Tell your mom I said 'hi', Eric," Kenny winked, and just like that Cartman was charging toward them again. Butters grabbed Kenny's arm and took off at a run. As expected, it didn't take long for Cartman to fall behind. Butters and Kenny both slowed to a walk, Kenny both gasping and in severe face pain. Butters quirked a brow and gave a laugh.

"You know that was dumb, right?"

Kenny nodded.

"Insanely," he panted.

"And that you should probably stop smoking?"

"Nag, nag—" Kenny took an exaggerated breath "—_nag_."

Butters rolled his eyes and slipped his arm around Kenny's waist as they walked toward his house.

"So if we're not gonna show him the video what am I supposed to do with it?" Butters asked. Kenny shrugged and shoved his spare hand into his pocket.

"You could always upload it to youporn," he said. "Quite personally I'm interested in any notes that viewers might like to offer in the comments."

"Oh, you want pointers?" Butters laughed as they walked up his driveway. "Looks like my parents aren't home; you may just get your wish."

Kenny grinned.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, maybe after we patch you up," Butters rolled his eyes and pushed Kenny into the house. Kenny snorted and stripped his hoodie from his shoulders, tossing it haphazardly over the couch as Butters locked the door behind them. Butters turned and raised an eyebrow when saw Kenny sprawled comfortably over the couch.

"Ravish me," Kenny sighed. Butters snorted and crouched beside him.

"Let me clean you up first," he suggested softly, but Kenny just shook his head and pushed their lips together. Butters made sure to evade Kenny's busted lip and any other sore spots as Kenny pulled him on top of him.

"Have you ever played basketball with a boner?" Kenny asked. "Pretty difficult, let me tell you."

"Almost as difficult as maintaining one around Eric, I'm sure," Butters laughed. Kenny shrugged.

"That's me: master of the impossible."

Butters hummed and ran his fingers along Kenny's hairline.

"You're not gonna let me fix up your lip, are you?"

"If I die from an infection I'll be sure to haunt you forever," Kenny said very seriously. "Until your dying day, all you'll hear is 'you were right' over and over again."

Butters pinched him on the stomach and nipped at his jaw.

"Smartass."

They stopped talking then and just kissed, tongues sliding together, along lips and over teeth. Butters gasped slightly when one of Kenny's hands slipped past his waistband and into his underpants, groping firmly. He grinned and moved to remove Kenny's shirt, then his own. Kenny barked a laugh.

"Good, young Padawan."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up and kiss me."

Kenny was more than happy to oblige until they heard the door open. Butters was on the floor, a combination of Kenny pushing him off and Butters attempting to leap up, as soon as Mrs. Stotch was visible in the doorway, bag of groceries in danger of toppling to the floor as she gaped at the sight before her.

"Well," she coughed and shut the door. "I didn't realize this was actually _happening_-happening."

"S-sorry, mom," Butters mumbled and grabbed a shirt. She just watched him as he pulled the shirt over his head and sighed.

"Now I know why there was a Black Sabbath shirt in your laundry," she said and walked into the kitchen. "You're not of the AC/DC variety, sweetheart."

Butters looked down and vaguely wondered how exactly he'd mistaken Kenny's shirt for his.

"Kenny, are you staying for dinner?" Mrs. Stotch called from the kitchen. Kenny raised an eyebrow and looked to Butters for an answer. Butters just shrugged.

"Uh, sure," Kenny called back. "Thanks."

"You boys just stay down here and watch TV until it's ready," Mrs. Stotch said. "And put your shirt on, Kenny."

"Your son's wearing my shirt," Kenny said back before he could catch himself. Butters smacked him on the leg just as his mom appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel and giving Kenny a reproachful glare.

"Just cover yourself up like you've got a fear of the Lord," she said and threw the towel right onto Kenny's face. As she disappeared back into the kitchen. Kenny sat up and traded shirts with Butters as the other boy slipped back up onto the couch beside him.

"Were you going to tell me that you told her?" Kenny asked.

"Of course I was," Butters scowled. "Sorry I got a little distracted."

"At least she didn't freak out like we thought she would, right?" Kenny pointed out with an optimistic shrug.

"Yeah right, fo-for all I know she's just biding her time," he said. "At least she still talks to me. Hell, my dad hasn't spoken to me in nearly a week."

"Lucky you," Kenny quipped and shot Butters a cheeky smile. Butters gave him a halfhearted glare stuck out his tongue. He'd been this close to leaning in for a kiss when Mrs. Stoch cleared her throat. Kenny and Butters both scooted to extreme opposite ends of the couch.

"I'm making pot roast," she said. "Do you want mashed or baked potatoes?"

"Whatever's easier for you, Mrs. Stotch," Kenny flashed a charming smile. She tossed a look his way, then one to Butters, and retreated back into the kitchen.

"That's it," Butters shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. "She wants to kill us. That pot roast? How much you wanna bet it's laced with rat poison?"

"Oh, come on," Kenny rolled his eyes as Butters switched on the TV and began flipping through channels. He scooted closer to Butters until their hips and legs were lined up nicely and gave the smaller boy an imploring look.

"What?" Butters asked.

"You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Butters snapped.

"Shocking, I know," Kenny nodded and put an arm around him. "Your mom wouldn't poison the entire dinner just to kill us. I mean, she and your dad have to eat too."

Butters gave a laugh.

"Good, she'll get you, me, and my dad in one clean sweep," he said.

"Dude, from what it looks like she seems pretty okay with it," Kenny shrugged. "Like, more okay than I thought a 'raging psychopath' could be, y'know?"

"Okay, she's tried to _kill_ me before, Kenny," Butters said very, _very_ calmly. "So I don't appreciate the a-air quotes or the general sarcasm, for that matter."

"I've tried on multiple occasions of pregnancy scares amongst the McCormick women to bring back back-alley abortion methods," Kenny shrugged again, completely nonchalant about the whole thing. "You don't see me chasing every pregnant woman with a rusty hanger, do you?"

"Neither the time nor the place," Butters interjected and pushed Kenny away from him. Kenny groaned and slouched in his place. It was not going to be a fun night.

* * *

And Kenny had been right. Cue the most awkward dinner both Butters and Kenny had ever had to sit through in the Stotch kitchen. Granted, Kenny had eaten dinner with the Stotches on more than a few occasions, but now? Now Butters' parents knew the nature of Kenny's relationship to Butters, and if it wasn't freaking them out it was sure taking a toll on their poor son. Mrs. Stotch seemed to be more preoccupied with the bottle of wine she'd opened at the beginning of the meal, which she only grudgingly conceded to share with her husband after she saw the way he wouldn't look at their son. Kenny seemed content to munch on his green beans and knock his foot up against Butters' every once in a while, which, Butters would admit, was a nice reminder that he wasn't alone.

"So, you boys are an item now," Mrs. Stotch smiled warmly. Mr. Stotch nearly spat wine all over Butters, who'd dropped his fork and was now balking at his mother… This wasn't happening. It absolutely _was_. _not_. _happening_. Kenny, who looked only the slightest bit caught off guard, smiled and leaned over the table.

"Yes we are," he grinned. Butters made a mental note to make him pay for encouraging such behavior. Why Kenny enjoyed antagonizing situations, Butters would never understand.

"Madly in love?" she jested over her wine, and Butters noticed that she was on her third glass. This was just… absolutely _fantastic. _

"Oh, we're eloping at the soonest available moment," Kenny nodded and took a bite of mashed potatoes.

"Now, now," Mrs. Stotch leaned back in her chair, eyeing the pair of them warily. "Don't be so quick to settle down. Think of all the experimenting you can do—and _should_ do—before you get married."

Butters followed his mother's glance toward her husband and suddenly felt a bit like Satan had opened up a second branch of Hell right in his kitchen. Kenny seemed to catch on to this too and cleared his throat. Mrs. Stotch turned fully to her husband, who was now bright red, and with a smug look, gestured to the boys.

"Isn't it great?" she asked as Mr. Stotch drained the rest of his wine and poured another glass. "Them working it out while they're young… not waiting."

"Mom," Butters tried to interrupt, but she'd have none of it. Kenny continued watching the scene, intrigued. He was new to this brand of parental dispute and was curious to see how it would end without broken bottles or a punch in the mouth.

"Obviously, Linda," Mr. Stotch replied coolly, "neither of them has the love of a good woman to make them want to settle down yet."

"Honey, you're supposed to _stop_ fucking around with the boys once you're married," she sighed. "Not start."

Kenny kicked Butters' foot under the table, like they were watching Maury or something. Butters shot him a look back that clearly conveyed 'not helping', because his mom just said _fuck_, for fuck's sake. Life no longer made sense, and for a fleeting moment Butters thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a horrendously lucid dream. He pinched his wrist and winced. _Goddamn it._

"You know, boys," Mrs. Stotch began, "I'm proud of you both. You're not ashamed of who you are. You're good boys, both of you. You'd never take the _best years_ of a woman's _life_, give her an absolutely beautiful son, and suck every last iota of recognizable joy out of her, would you?"

Both Kenny and Butters shook their heads, Kenny wide-eyed and still curious, Butters reaching for the half-empty wine bottle and taking a large swig of the rich, earthy liquid. His mother raised her glass to him and smiled.

"That's the spirit, baby," she sighed and drank up herself. Mr. Stotch scowled and took the bottle from his son immediately, topped off his own glass, and left for the living room without so much as a look toward his dinner companions. Mrs. Stotch giggled and poured some wine into Butters' empty water glass.

"The only problem with you walking away is that you come back every time," she called after her husband. Mr. Stotch came back in, about to retort, when Butters downed the wine and slammed the glass back down on the table.

"Jesus Christ, will you both stop it?" he snapped. The whole room went silent—even Kenny stopped shoveling food into his face and looked at his boyfriend with some curiosity. Butters let out a breath and looked from his mom to his dad and back again.

"I've just about had it with you two," he said very levelly. "If you can't act like decent human beings in front of a guest then something's obviously wrong."

"Now, Butters, this doesn't concern you," his father warned.

"I'm your kid," Butters said. "Mo-most everything in your life _should_ concern me. You gotta stop treating me like I'm nine. I-I mean, if you cared about me at all you would've realized I'm not happy 'cause you guys aren't happy."

Mrs. Stotch looked down at the table, shame and wine working to flush her face a deep red. Mr. Stotch, however, couldn't stop looking at Kenny, who stood and set his napkin beside his plate.

"I think I'll wait outside," he said and gave Butters a kiss on the top of the head before he left the kitchen. Butters almost followed him—having Kenny right next to him always made him a little bit braver than normal. Now he was back to being a scared, slightly buzzed kid facing the impending wrath of hateful father and a wounded mother. He gulped.

"This behavior is unacceptable, Butters," his father said very calmly. "Do you think you'd be acting like this if you had a nice girlfriend? No. See, Linda? This is what happens when you allow yourself to give into sin and depravity when you're young."

"Honey, you've been sleeping with men at bathhouses for the last nine years," Mrs. Stotch replied calmly. "I don't think you're really qualified to talk about depravity. At least Butters knows Kenny."

"I'm sitting right here," Butters sighed. "Ma, dad's kn-known about me and Kenny for weeks now and he didn't tell you."

"Because I didn't want a repeat episode of what happened the last time she found out something like this," Mr. Stotch defended himself.

"She freaked out 'cause you're her husband, dad," Butters groaned. "She doesn't care who _I_ find attractive."

"I'm actually not thrilled about this, Butters," Mrs. Stotch admitted softly. Butters felt his heart thump wildly against his chest as the rest of him went still. She wasn't… what? She took a deep breath and leaned forward across the table.

"I'm tolerating it," she explained. "Would I rather you were straight? Of course, but I know that's not my place to say so I didn't want to say it."

Butters stared at her for a moment and bowed his head. The tragedy was that, under different circumstances, Butters knew that she would've been fine with it. He then looked to his dad, who wouldn't meet his eye, as usual, and nodded.

"You guys should've gotten a divorce a-a long time ago," he said softly. "You were pretty shitty parents this way."

"Butters!" his mother exclaimed as Butters stood.

"I-I love you, but it's true," he muttered and mashed his knuckles together. "I-I always wanted you to keep loving each other too, y'know? Probably wouldn't have ma-made you better parents, but it would've at least made it easier."

When neither of his parents said anything, Butters figured he'd said all he could.

"I-I'm probably gonna stay the night with Kenny," he said softly. "I reckon I'll see you both tomorrow."

Butters walked through the living room, only to see Kenny hiding about halfway up the stairs and obviously straining his ears. Butters rolled his eyes.

"I knew I didn't hear a door close," he said. Kenny bounded down the stairs to follow him, grabbing the car keys out of the younger boy's hand as they walked outside into the cool evening air.

"Baby—"

"Don't," Butters interrupted. "Just… can we go to your house?"

Kenny nodded softly and slid into the driver's seat. They didn't say a single thing until they were in the confines of Kenny's room. Butters was on the bed, hunched in a corner with his knees to his chest while Kenny rolled a joint on his dresser.

"You've had a long day," Kenny said over his shoulder with a smile. Butters didn't smile back, just chewed at his bottom lip like it was ready to come off at any second. Kenny sighed and abandoned his task, crawling onto the bed and over to the huddled mass in the corner. He cupped Butters' face in his hands and kissed him on the nose.

"What are you doing?" Butters asked. Kenny shrugged.

"Trying to make you feel better, but obviously it's not working very well," he sighed and bumped their noses together.

"Kenny," Butters admonished him halfheartedly.

"What?" Kenny asked. "Just tell me what I can do and I'll do it."

Butters shrugged and shakily stretched his legs out in front of him.

"Ho-hold me, I guess?" he asked hopefully. "It's kinda girly or whatever, but—" Kenny was already lying flat on the bed, arms outstretched to welcome Butters in. Butters took the invitation and resolved not to move until he felt one hundred percent better. He prepared himself for the longest cuddle of his life.

"Your parents really are dick holes," Kenny said thoughtfully. "Not that I didn't believe you before, but goddamn."

"Can we not talk about it, please?" Butters asked softly.

"I mean, we both got royally fucked in the home life department," Kenny continued.

"This is talking about it," Butters reminded him. "If I talk about it I _will_ have an aneurism."

"Fine," Kenny conceded and drew patterns on Butters' shoulder with his fingertips. "I think you kicked ass, though… for whatever it's worth."

"Really?" Butters asked and looked up to meet Kenny's eyes. Kenny smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

"Not a lot of people have the balls to tell their parents they're shit," he said. "I guess this is that point where it all starts getting better?" he then offered. Butters shrugged and ran a finger over the ridges of Kenny's ribcage.

"Next stop is college, I guess," he said. "If I didn't have to spend the whole summer at home, I'd probably be a little more excited."

"Well," Kenny began. "Stan and I were going to start looking for apartments near the community college next weekend. I mean, if all goes well we could have a place by July. I don't think he'd say no if you wanted to stay with us until you had to leave."

Butters just shook his head and sighed.

"My parents would hate me even more if I did that," he said and burrowed his face in Kenny's chest. "It's like I actually _am_ chaos incarnate."

Kenny rolled his eyes.

"So what?" he asked. "Makes you exciting. Craig Tucker is boring as shit, and no one hangs out with him except Tweek, because Tweek has ADHD and hasn't seemed to notice."

"You know chaos isn't a good thing, right?" Butters asked. "I send everyone's life into upheaval and I don't even mean it." Kenny took a breath, because there was no arguing with Butters when he was like this, and just ran his fingers through the smaller boy's hair.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you did," he said softly. "Because if you and I hadn't started fucking do you know where I'd be? Probably with some girl at a Planned Parenthood clinic and looking for another job. And I'd be miserable because I wouldn't have known what it's like to actually love someone."

Butters made a little noise that only prompted Kenny to continue.

"With your parents," he said, "maybe they'll actually listen to each other for a change and separate… finally give themselves a chance to be happy for the first time in years, you know? Or they'll work on their shit while you're away. Bebe and Token are totally in love, and if we hadn't started fucking she'd probably still be trying to get with me. Good can come from chaos just as easily as shit can."

Then, as an afterthought, "the whole Cartman's mom thing was actually really petty and awful, so… you know, nothing good really came of that, but that's one out of a lot of other things."

Butters just made another noise that indicated he would not be participating in the conversation, and Kenny sighed. Fine, he'd just sit there and think too. He looked up at his ceiling right as he was struck by a thought he wished he'd never had. It was actually a perfect solution to the problem Butters was facing, but it meant… fuck it. If Butters was better off for it, then it wasn't really his place to… _goddamn it._

"What about your aunt?" he grudgingly asked. Butters looked up and frowned.

"What about her?"

"She knows what's going on, doesn't she?" Kenny shrugged. "I mean, if you can't wait to get away from your parents, and you don't want to live with me and Stan… maybe ask if you could move out early and stay with her for a while."

Butters sat up slowly, a hopeful smile spreading across his face that sent Kenny reeling.

"That's not a bad idea," he said conspiratorially. "She'd let me stay with her in a heartbeat."

Kenny nodded and threw his arm over his eyes. _Another one of your brilliant ideas there, McCormick—you just sent the man you love on an early one-way trip to LA. Great._

"Would you be okay with it, Kenny?" Butters asked, sliding back up against him. Kenny nodded.

"You have to get out of here," he said. "You've always wanted to, so why not do it as soon as possible? I mean, it was going to happen anyway, so why should it matter if it happens sooner?"

"Kenny, I—" Butters took a shaky breath "—I really love you."

"You too, Butters," Kenny smiled. "Maybe I could drive you to your aunt's… y'know, if she says yes and everything. Maybe you could show me around LA and your school. Maybe I'll even go check out CalArts while I'm there."

"Yeah!" Butters exclaimed, flying up yet again. "She wouldn't mind. Heck, she'd love you."

Kenny laughed as Butters ran through a collection of stories about his aunt, even got a little excited about meeting her when he talked about how she'd worked at an adult novelty shop the first five years she'd lived in LA. When Butters finally settled down and back into his arms, Kenny held onto him tight. Butters didn't seem to mind.

"Maybe I can mess up her life and inadvertently get her another husband," he said through a smile. Kenny just smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Welcome back, Professor Chaos."


	14. Epilogue

All right, here we have our epilogue. It's been almost five months and 106 pages, and I have to say I'm sorry to see it end. As has been said before, you're all wonderful for sticking around, blah-blah-blah, you all get it. Just watch Remember the Titans and just pretend I'm making all those grand inspiring speeches to you, but about fanfiction instead of racism.

And let me just add before you read that I have nothing against Californians, being that I am one myself. We're just a strange group of people, plain and simple.

Enjoy, and thank you so-so much for reading. :D

* * *

A week into fall quarter, Butters had called Kenny, absolutely elated with his newfound freedom ("There's so much to do just right off campus—not to mention in the entire city!"). A month after that, Kenny had called to find Butters in tears, wanting to come back home ("I don't belong here—everyone hates me a-and everything's too big…").

By Thanksgiving, Butters had become so swamped with work that he couldn't even come home ("Never take a literature and history class at the same time…"). Kenny had spent Thanksgiving with Stan's family; it turned out Kyle was just as busy and had broken his both his mother's and Stan's hearts by not coming home either, so Kenny and Stan had spent most of their four-day break consoling each other with alcohol and shitty SyFy movies.

The Monday after Thanksgiving, Kenny had called Butters only to get his voicemail, and the two had been playing phone tag ever since ("Answer your phone when I call you, 'cause your voice makes me hard and my roommate's tired of walking in on me jer_-hic-_jerking off to my phone… I'm a little drunk."). After that, Kenny had taken extra-special care to make sure all of his messages were of the naughty variety. Stan had walked in on him leaving one once; needless to say, that hadn't been a fun conversation that had followed.

As it stood, it was the second week of December, and as an early Christmas gift Kenny's mother had demanded he come and clear out the shit he'd left in his room. He'd asked why they needed the extra space and she had evaded the question with the kind of expertise that made Kenny believe they were going to turn his bedroom into a meth lab.

"You're nineteen-years-old, you don't live here anymore, the least you could do is clear out your room."

So Kenny came by, after crosschecking his parents' whereabouts with Karen about six times, and started going through his stuff. Karen stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow arched.

"Surprised you even came at all," she said. "Not like you didn't get out of here as fast as you could."

"I'm not commuting from here to the community college every day, Karen, but nice try," Kenny snarked. "There's a big difference between me and Kevin."

"Yeah, Kevin's a raging hard-on and you're a pissy little faggot," she shot back and stuck out her tongue before leaving the room entirely.

"I'm a pissy little half-faggot, for your information," he shouted after her and picked up a stack of papers from the foot of his bed. The entire corner of his room was a pile of drawings and schoolwork he hadn't gone through since about the sixth grade. Even though only six months old, the drawings from his last month of senior year were more than a little cringe-worthy after almost a full semester of life drawing.

He heard a little tap on his window and curiously looked over at the pane of glass, boarded up with cardboard in one corner. Nothing but the (unfortunately) clear view he'd always had of the Cooperton's house (and master bedroom window) across the street. This long into December, everything was covered with a thick, fresh blanket of snow. Another tap, and this time Kenny could see it was from a small pebble knocking against the glass. He rolled his eyes and stalked over to the window, fully prepared to tell whoever off about proper pebble-window etiquette (off the sill, not the goddamned glass), when he actually caught sight of the figure standing out in the snow below. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest like he was Roger Rabbit catching his first sight of Jessica Rabbit. He was downstairs and out the door with cartoonish speed, approaching carefully just in case his eyes had been playing tricks on him.

They hadn't been.

"Leopold-fucking-Stotch, what are you doing here?"

Butters bit his lip and smiled that bashful smile that made Kenny want to tackle him into the snow, all sense of propriety be damned. Yes, they'd decided to keep their relationship casual, and sure, Kenny had just spent a rather satisfying night with a girl from his econ class, but Butters… goddamn it, Butters was Butters, and he dared anyone to be away from that boy for very long without feeling just a little heartbroken and lonely.

"I-I guess I wanted to surprise you, so," Butters shrugged, "surprise. I went to your apartment, but Stan said you were here when I buzzed at the door."

"Well, come inside, for fuck's sake," Kenny laughed, his entire body reeling. He was here—Butters was actually _here_. Kenny shut the door as soon as they got inside and couldn't help but notice—

"Did you get taller?" he asked when Butters failed to be his usual four inches shorter than him. By no means were they the same height, but Butters was definitely creeping up on Kenny's 6'2" stature.

"Late bloomer," was all Butters managed to say with a shrug. There was something else about him that Kenny couldn't quite place. He began circling Butters like a shark—the clothes were the same, those snow boots were the same… He snapped his fingers.

"Haircut," he beamed and Butters nodded. Indeed, he had finally cut his hair shorter. Not quite the military cut he'd been known to sport after an afternoon at the barber when they were kids, but it had a sort of tumbled-out-of bed look that made Kenny's gut stir quite pleasantly.

"Yeah," Butters blushed. "M-my floormate Nancy did it for me, but she kind of messed it up in the back and I had to wear a hat for a month. A big wool cap in LA for a month. It wasn't fun."

"Whoa."

Kenny and Butters both turned to see Karen, gob smacked, at the foot of the stairs. She smiled and approached Butters with that coy sort of walk Kenny had seen her use on unsuspecting prey. He ought to know—he used that walk himself from time to time.

"Butters, you look great," she smiled. "College has done wonders for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Kenny pushed her face away, irritated. "In your dreams. What are you, fifteen? Go dry hump a couch cushion if you're so desperate."

She stuck her tongue out, but could pretty much gather that she wasn't wanted. She stomped back up the stairs, leaving Kenny and Butters alone once more.

"You don't think it looks stupid, do you?" Butters asked as he ran a hand through his hair. Kenny shook his head and smiled.

"You look fucking sexy, dude," he said and took a step closer to Butters' personal space. It almost felt foreign, like they'd never touched each other before, like they hadn't spend the last month and a half of their time together fucking the living daylights out of each other (or, Kenny recalled fondly, seeing every summer movie there was, just as an excuse to hold hands somewhere that wasn't a bedroom).

"You look good too," Butters chimed in with a smile. "A lot, uh… healthier than I've seen you before."

"Is that a fat joke?" Kenny asked, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Stan had taken a leaf out of the Broflovski handbook and had made sure Kenny ate at least three meals a day. Two of those three meals were not allowed to be toaster waffles, pop-tarts, or ramen.

"Yeah, that's a fat joke," Butters quirked an eyebrow and pulled Kenny close. "You know I'm all about fat jokes." Kenny rested their foreheads together.

"So forceful," he chided mildly, "is this what fucking a few boys in the stacks does to a perfectly innocent guy like yourself?" Butters nodded and brought Kenny into a kiss, sweet and simple. Kenny faltered for just a moment, caught off-guard by something he'd missed for so long. He tried to put everything he'd felt in the last six months into that kiss, as if by the act itself they could suddenly share memories, replace them even so it felt like the other never left.

"Whoa," Butters pulled back with a laugh. "I came by to help you with your room, mister, not to let you defile me in your parents' house."

"Nice to see LA hasn't ruined your sense of decency," he called after Butters, who was running up the stairs and into Kenny's room. Kenny followed quickly behind, not bothering to shut the door before he pinned Butters to the bed and kissed him senseless. Butters smiled and ran his hands over Kenny's shoulders, down his chest, and settled on his hips.

"If you two are gonna fuck you should at least close the door."

"Go away, Karen," Kenny groaned against Butters' mouth before rolling over and seeing that Karen had not abandoned her spot in the doorway.

"I still think you guys are gross," she shrugged.

"I still think you're a bitch," Kenny shot back. "Close the door and leave us the fuck alone."

"If I hear even a whimper, I'm telling mom you were fucking a boy in your bed," she said and flipped him off.

"I'm an adult, Karen—that's not a viable threat."

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her. Butters turned on his side and brushed a few stray strands of hair off of Kenny's forehead. Kenny smiled.

"I missed you," he said softly. Butters hummed and kissed him again, a little calmer this time to avoid any unwanted escalade.

"You too," he said. "My roommate almost made me call you last week, but I'd have spoiled the surprise if I did… Plus, I had all my finals right in a row, so that sucked."

"Right," Kenny nodded. "Did you get my good luck message?"

"A voicemail of you jerking off isn't a good luck message, but nice try," Butters smirked.

"I said 'good luck' at the end."

"Yeah, guess I didn't get that far," Butters shrugged and hopped to his feet. "So, we're cleaning out your room?"

And that's what they did. Within a few hours Kenny's room had gone from unimaginable and hellishly untidy to freakishly neat, without a single dust particle out of place. They'd found a few missing items, Kenny's favorite glass pipe he'd gotten himself as an eighteenth birthday present being amongst the better finds. They'd also found one of Butters' old t-shirts that they'd just assumed had been lost as a sacrifice to the god of quick-and-dirty fucks. On their way out of the house, Kenny stood in front of Karen, who was on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, and smiled.

"We're off," he said. Karen just shrugged and pretended she could see through him to the episode of Degrassi on the TV behind him. Kenny rolled his eyes. "Stand up and give me a hug, please."

He winked at Butters as he slipped forty-dollars into the back pocket of his sister's jeans.

"Go see a movie with Ruby or something," he said. "Or buy condoms with it. One of the two. Just don't let mom and dad know you have it."

Karen beamed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You're the best," she said and even walked them to the door. They were all the way to the sidewalk when he remembered he didn't have a car and cursed.

"How'd you get here?" Butters asked as they began walking down the street.

"Stan dropped me off. He had to go get Kyle from the airport," Kenny blew warm air into his hands. "He told me he'd come get me when he dropped Kyle off at his parents' house… which probably won't be for a while, since I told him to take the apartment today."

"The whole thing?" Butters raised his eyebrows. "He couldn't come pick you up and just leave you in the living room while they…" he trailed off.

"Thin walls," Kenny explained.

"Ahh," Butters nodded in understanding. "I live next to this one girl who brings her boyfriend over, like, every night. It's kinda gross, 'cause she doesn't even make an effort to keep it to herself, y'know?"

Kenny hummed an affirmation and draped his arm around Butters' shoulder. He tried not to grin when Butters' arm settled around his waist, but _goddamn it,_ Butters was back and they were together and he was warm and he smelled good and, honestly, Kenny was lucky he couldn't die from sensory overload.

"It's weird," Butters began. "Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do with my life now that I'm in college. Do people ask you that?"

"No one ever asks me that," Kenny shook his head, only a little bitter that no one had noticed his newfound ambition to be more than just some poor kid living off minimum wage for the rest of his life. Apparently, the question had different connotations for Butters.

"Well, good," Butters said, "'cause it gets really annoying really fast. Who knows what they want to do with the rest of their life when they're eighteen? And another thing, people get all amazed when they find out I'm from Colorado. It's like they've never met anyone who didn't live in California before."

"Californians are weird," Kenny agreed.

"They always ask me what I do for fun back home," Butters continued, "like there's nothing to do outside of LA. And you have no idea how many vegans I've had to deal with the last few months—"

"Are you happy?" Kenny asked. Butters paused for a moment to consider before he shrugged and smiled.

"I guess I am," he said, and for the first time in a long time, he meant it. He then turned to look at Kenny. "Are you?" Kenny nodded.

"I am," and why not? He was going to school, something no one had ever expected him to do, he was living with one of his best friends who cared more about him than almost everyone else in his life combined, and, right now, he was with Butters. All of that seemed to drown out the fact that he had to work two jobs to pay for school and rent, that the landlord hated him and Stan for breaking almost every single plumbing fixture in their place, and that he wasn't _always_ with Butters.

"Good," Butters smiled and dropped his hand from Kenny's waist and instead pulled Kenny into a kiss, right there in the middle of the street where anyone could've seen them.

"Think we'll make it through the next four years and still be together?" Butters asked when they broke for breath.

"I have a great idea," Kenny muttered against Butters' ear. "Let's not worry about it."

"It's been a pretty good strategy so far," Butters conceded and brought Kenny into another kiss. It was worthless to invest so much in a future they weren't even sure they were going to have, and it was for that reason Kenny had avoided dwelling on it for too long in the past, but at that moment, just for a second, he vaguely wondered what it would be like to live with each other after they were done with school. Would Butters start teaching, or would he try to break into Hollywood as screenwriter? Would Kenny have to get some shitty job drawing caricatures in Venice Beach, or would someone recognize his talent right away and sit him down in a design studio right away? What if there were more options? What if they stayed together so long that they decided to get married, or have a kid? What if they _didn't_ make it? Would they still be friends? Would Kenny ever feel like he could trust anyone again if Butters left him? What if he left Butters? Jesus Christ, the possibilities were endless, each of them forking off from that particular moment and each into an alternate future. For once, Kenny wished he knew which one was the one that would end up playing out.

"You started thinking about it, didn't you?" Butters laughed. Kenny gave a bashful nod that turned into a smile when Butters gave a simple "me too."

"What'd you come up with?" he asked and Butters shrugged.

"Probably the same thing you did," he said as they began walking once again. "A lot of my scenarios ended with us raising one or two of your bastard lovechildren, though."

"Oh," Kenny said, a little worried that he'd given Butters cause to think something like that was a possibility. He got even more worried when he realized just how possible that scenario really was.

"Well," he began, "I guess if I had to raise a lovechild with anyone, I'd want it to be you."

"And I'd be too afraid to see what you'd do with a kid when left to your own devices, so I suppose we're square," Butters rolled his eyes stuffed his hands in his pockets. They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments before Butters piped up again. "I'm really glad you still love me, Kenny."

"I'm glad you still love me too, Butters," Kenny laughed and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "I'd've been pissed if you'd left me for some dick bag you met at school."

"Mm," Butters nodded. "I think once you talk someone into fucking your nemesis's mom, you're kinda in it for life with them."

"Yeah," Kenny nodded. "Good thing we got that shit out of the way early then."

"Yup," Butters said brightly. "I wouldn't have wanted you to wait until she was a saggy old lady." Kenny laughed-Jesus, he hadn't laughed this much in forever.

"Well, at least no one can say you aren't considerate," he said. Butters hummed and grabbed Kenny's hand.

"That's me-Saint Leopold," he replied and gave Kenny one of those dangerous smiles. "Now let's go salt Stark's Pond and watch all the kids fall over on their ice skates."


End file.
